The One Good Thing
by emmalcook
Summary: Everything is muddled for Charly when she finds herself unexplainably trapped in a freight elevator moving swiftly upward, but one thing is for sure. The three sentences written hastily on a note she found crumpled in her pocket. Get in the box. Get them out. Don't trust WICKED. The only thing stronger than her sense of purpose are her feelings for a certain boy with tousled hair.
1. The Alarm

_**I own nothing aside from Charly and the storyline that my imagination has been harboring. All Maze Runner characters and initial storyline belong to James Dashner.**_

A sudden jolt thrust the girl back into consciousness. Momentum knocked her to her knees, her hands bracing herself on the cold, metal floor. It was pitch black aside from the flashes of light that shone quickly as they passed by. Was she moving…upward? Logic escaped her head as the sound of wrenching machinery filled every cavity, the awful lunging of the box threatening to make her sick.

She tried to collect her thoughts, inhaling in short, shaking breaths. There were no doors to the metal box, only a set of large doors above her bound together with an iron lock the size of her fist. Her fists…

She looked down, studying the hands that felt so unfamiliar to her, turning them over and over. They reached hesitantly to the hem of her olive green shirt, fingers pinching and pulling the frayed ends. They grazed over the material and up to her collar where she laced her fingers behind her neck, mouth now agape. The realization that she had no idea who she was hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her stomach dropped as she slumped up against the wall of the ever moving box, numbness overcoming her. Not even the slightest memory of her parents, attending school, birthday parties, or even what she had for breakfast came to mind. It was as if someone had taken a metaphorical blackboard eraser to her very existence up until now.

Another shake of the box quickened the girl's heart rate, sending her thoughts scattered once again. But now there was silence only broken by her staggered, hastily breathing. And voices. Faint and far away sounding, but voices nonetheless. Panic and adrenaline took over. She patted down her black leggings checking for any pockets then felt around the sides of the room, searching for anything she could protect herself with. Her left hand found the side of a crate, but she furrowed her brows upon reaching inside. Empty.

Tucking strands of hair behind her ears in frustration her wrist brushed up against her chest, making a crunching sound. The girl paused, looking down at a pocket in her shirt that had until now gone unnoticed. Slowly, she reached into the pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper that had been crumpled up into a small ball, carefully unfolding it as the voices grew closer, louder.

There was fresh ink on the paper, she could smell it, but the darkness made it almost impossible to make out any wording. She scooted hastily over to the side of the box where a red light flashed on and off in unison with blaring alarm. Holding the paper to the faint light, she was able to read the message.

Get in the box. Get them out. Don't trust WICKED.

And then she was blinded. The once muffled voices were now clear as day, but one by one they died down, falling silent once again. Instead, their shouts had turned to hushed whispers. Hastily, the girl tucked the small piece of paper away safely in the band of her leggings and glanced up at the dark figures that were now coming into view.

"Pull him out already!"

"What's wrong? Is he dead?"

Shouts began to emerge from the crowd, but the figures who were closest remained silent, and she could now see that she was surrounded by boys of all ages, staring down at her with eyebrows raised like she was some sort of captive animal in this box.

"Shut your shank mouths!" one of the boys from the front yelled, his dark toned arms glistening with sweat. "It's….it's a girl."

The hushed whispers began again excitedly, but the girl had begun backing herself into the corner of the cage, eyes now filled with fear and uncertainty. _This isn__'__t happening_ she thought over and over to herself, almost as if by telling herself this and shutting her eyes, she would be whisked back home, wherever home was, and all of this metal box nonsense would be nonexistent. She shut her eyes hard, willing the voices to stop yelling and the eyes to stop staring, but to no avail. She opened them again, her eyes now following the arm of the boy who had spoken up, his hand outstretched to her.

"Up you get. Let's go, greenie." Though his eyes were kind, his words were stern, a sense of authority accompanying his presence. She continued scoot backward, her back finally meeting with the unforgiving metal side of the box. Trapped

"No," she uttered softly, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Until now, she hadn't even heard her own voice, and the sound had her taken aback.

"No, s'alright," a boy with ruffled, lengthy blonde hair said quietly, his face expressing concern. He too reached out a hand, but the girl continued to dig her heels into the smooth metal floor, willing the metal sides of the box to somehow give way. The sense of captivity was overwhelming and she felt her breathing start to increase once again. The figures blurred once again, but not before the first boy had jumped down into the box with her. But his heavy boots didn't make the _clank_ of collision she was expecting. Instead, the sound was a muffled thud. He was moving in slow motion. It was as if someone had shoved her head underwater, as voices again became muffled, quieter, her vision darker. He moved closer, bending down and wrapping his arms around her to lift her from the space.

Then everything turned black.

—

Her eyelids felt heavy as she strained to open her eyes with a groan. She was in a bed, tucked away under a worn quilt, staring at a wood paneled ceiling. Taking a hand, she pulled back a corner of the covers and looked to her side. A boy.

He was sitting on the floor with his back up against a wall, elbows resting on his knees while he fiddled with a blade, running his hands over the metal. He was taller, she could tell, built strong and lean with tanned skin from the sun. His face, though dirty, sported teams of freckles and angled eyebrows. His light brown hair was cut short and blunt. He looked up at her.

"And there she is," he chuckled, getting to his feet and sighing. "Only out for an hour or so, right scared out of your shuck mind, we figured. Gally's the name, by the way."

The girl sat up, contemplated getting to her feet and making a run for the open door on the opposite side of the room, but she held up a hand to her forehead as pain shot through. She watched as Gally walked towards her, folding his arms.

"Well no need to look scared now, greenie," he laughed, studying her face.

"I'm not 'greenie', whatever that is," she shot back, avoiding eye contact. Gally laughed.

"Feisty little shank, aren't ya? Fiery just like that hair of yours ." He reached out and took a lock of her hair in his hands, and she was just as interested in it as Gally seemed to be. The deep, crimson strands shone with luster as he turned them over between his fingers.

"I don't even know what I look like," she whispered to herself, and Gally's eyes softened in what seemed to be empathy. He turned to the open doorway and took some strides forward before calling out to another room.

"Alby, guys, she's awake!"

"What are you doing?" the girl asked, her eyes widening again not with fear this time, but curiosity. She needed answers, now. "How did I get in here? Better yet, why am I in here? And who are all of you?"

She shot off questions at Gally, who ignored her as he strode back into the room. She made an attempt to sit up, to run out of bed to someone who would enlighten her with at least a shred of knowledge. She was fed up with being unaware. But Gally's mood, once playful and concerned, turned serious as he placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back down to the mattress. She had no strength to retort.

Following Gally were three boys, two of which she recognized as the blurry figures who offered her hands upon her arrival in the box. The box. _The note_ she thought to herself, suddenly aware of the small piece of paper pressing against her hip. She couldn't tell them about it. At least, not now.

"Who are -" she began, but was quickly silenced.

"Shut it," he demanded, which drew an eye roll from the blonde boy.

"Slim it, Alby," he jibed with a smirk, a thick accent clearly evident. "Buggin' greenies have questions, that's just how it is."

The girl shot him a look of thanks and turned back to the boy called Alby. "Just…please," she pleaded, sighing. "Tell me what's going on." He paused before continuing.

"You've met Gally over there," he gestured to Gally, who raised his hand. "I'm Alby, this is Newt," the corner of the blonde boy's mouth turned up in a smirk. "And this here is Minho." The boy with jet black hair nodded.

"And this," he gestured to the window of the room, "is the Glade."

She glanced outside at the greenery before her. It was a lawn, sprinkled with small, poorly made wooden shacks all surrounding a large building of the same style. A pen of cows, sheep, and pigs sat in the far right corner, and opposite was a field of crops, ranging from corn to tomatoes, beets to strawberries. A large, rectangular hole sat close to the main building, surrounded by unlit red beacons. The flashing red light of the metal box shone across her memory, and she realized this is where she must have risen up out of. Encompassing the entire enclosure was a wall; a bland, cement wall rising what must be hundreds of feet into the air. There was a gap that marked the middle of each wall, but peering into the gap, she could make out nothing. Beyond that, nothing was visible. Alby began to speak again, but the girl could not take her eyes off of the scene.

"It's a maze," he noted coldly as she stared out at the horizon. The girl was taken aback, breaking her gaze and turning to him, meeting his emotionless expression with sudden panic.

"What?" she stammered, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and walking almost unwillingly over to the window, nearly pressing her nose up against the glass in an effort to somehow find a finite end point in the distance, anything that showed promise of a way out. But her sudden burst of optimistic thinking was quickly clouded by the span of never ending concrete walls that shot hundreds of feet into the air. They were trapped.

"A maze," Newt repeated, and though her eyes were still fixated on the view, she colt hear his boots against the hard wood as he approached her. "And a bloody big one, at that. Don't know who put us here or why, just know we have to find a way out."

The girl turned around, mouth trying to form questions but mind failing to make sense of what was happening. She just couldn't put anything into words.

"Ahh, so now you're quiet?" teased Minho to the chuckles of the other boys, and the girl furrowed her brows at the dig. But there was a smile hidden behind his sarcastic words, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards in a grin. "What's your name, anyway? Remember it?"

"Charly," she replied without hesitation, shocking herself. The name fell easily from her lips, carrying strange familiarity, but how? She couldn't remember even an inkling of life before awaking in the box, but her name - at least, what Charly assumed was her name - was engrained in her memory.

"Good that," Alby said gruffly. He rubbed a hand behind his neck roughly, taking a few steps towards the door. "You hungry or anything? Dunno how long it's been since you've eaten, we'll get Frypan to serve you up some klunk before we get on to the tour."

"I'm not hungry," Charly said blankly. She didn't know what she was right now. The maze, the glade, the box. _The note_. Again, its words flicking across her consciousness. She had a burning suspicion that it meant something, that for some reason her existence here was important. At least, it could be. Nevertheless, the thought of everything was making her sick, and the bed again began to look incredibly appealing.

"Would it be okay if I just…stayed here? I'm sorry, I just…this is a lot." Charly stammered, words tripping over one another.

"Whatever suits you, greenie," Alby replied simply, turning again to walk out of the door. "But I can't have you bein' useless for too long. I'll take you on a tour after you eat, and you'll start keeper training tomorrow." Charly didn't bother to ask what this was, instead crawling again into the bed and hugging her knees to her chest, unzipping her black boots and dropping them off the side onto the floor.

"Just promise me ya' wont go running your shank mouth asking questions until the tour, right?" questioned Minho, grinning. She nodded reluctantly and rolled her eyes, to which the boy returned a cheeky grin.

"Good that."

The footsteps and voices faded from behind her as the boys walked back outside, wooden door swinging shut behind them. Charly ran a hand exasperatedly through her hair and fell back into the bed, sleep coming to her spent mind quickly.

—

"You need to eat, greenie."

The clank of a dish against the bedside table woke Charly from her restless slumber. Weary eyed, she glanced at the plate that had been set before her. Chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and steamed carrots, and while it didn't look appealing, it smelled delightful. 

Newt stood next to her bedside, arms folded over his chest and lengthy blonde hair standing up on all ends. Charly sat up and pursed her lips together, frustrated.

"_Charly_," she corrected him, raising her eyebrows, but her stern words were met with a chuckle.

"Nope. It's greenie, love, until another shank comes up in that box." He sat at the end of her bed and sighed, gripping the quilt with his large hands. "Eat, I mean it. You'll need your strength and Alby'll be up here in a few to take you on your tour."

She snatched the plate and set it on her lap, cutting into the carrots feverishly, unaware as to how hungry she actually was until now. Newt looked surprised, then his face burst into a smile, laughter ringing out through the quiet room.

"Bloody hell, you might be the only girl here, but looks like you'll fit in just fine," he quipped between laughs, leaning back across the bed and resting upon his forearms. Charly halted in the middle of shoving a forkful of mashed potatoes into her already full mouth, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Yu meam I'mng de unly -"

Seeing the confused look on Newt's face, she stopped herself, swallowing before finishing her sentence. Charly paused.

"You mean I'm the only girl here?"

"Yeah!" Newt exclaimed, mirroring Charly's shocked expression. She groaned, letting her hand with the fork fall down into her lap.

"How many of them, err, you guys, are there?" she asked hesitantly

"'Round forty or so, I reckon," Newt smirked, clearly amused by Charly's reaction. "Does put you at a little but of a disadvantage. No worries, we aren't too bad. Well…most of us aren't." He winked coyly then quickly got to his feet, clapping his hands together.

"Forty? I can barely deal with _you_ right now," she retorted, returning the half-empty plate to the bedside table and throwing the covers off of her legs.

"Ha, ha," Newt answered sarcastically, though Charly could see a grin tug at the corners of his lips. "Hilarious, you are. Really pleasant."

"As are you, such a lovely young man."

Newt rolled his eyes and strode out the door. "Up you get, greenie, Alby's on his way!"

"_Charly_!" she chimed after him, and he peeked his head through the doorway once more.

"Charly."

_**And there we go! That's the first chapter of The One Good Thing over and done with, out for the world to see! I really hope you guys enjoy it. I've written so much over my life, but nothing that I've had a complete vision and passion for like I've experienced while writing this one. Needless to say, it's really exciting to finally upload it – my first upload on this site as well. I have about 10,000 words on this story already, so uploads will be coming quickly (knock on wood) from here on out for the next couple of weeks, I'm sure. Please, please, PLEASE do not be afraid to make suggestions in terms of writing style or even storyline; although I have a pretty fleshed out outline of the entire novel, I'm open to taking on different aspects of plot that strike my fancy. **_

_**I won't make this too long, because who even reads author's notes anyway? I hope you love Charly as much as I do, and that I bring the preexisting characters into a light in which we have yet to see them. **_


	2. The Dream

**_Putting up the first chapter and having six follows within the hour made me so excited that I just had to put the second one up as well! Thank you guys SO MUCH for the incredible feedback, I'm so happy you all like The One Good Thing so far. There's so much more to come, so stay tuned. As always, I own nothing aside from Charly and the storyline that my imagination has been harboring. All Maze Runner characters and initial storyline belong to James Dashner._**

Alby's tall, muscular frame came into view chuckling, leaning up against the doorframe. He sighed before taking up a more serious tone and standing up straight.

"Right then. Let's get on with this."

Charly stood, shaking her hesitation and nervousness quickly aside. She needed to hold her own, to show that she was equally as capable as the rest of the boys she was to live with. But this seemed a silly thought, in retrospect. Charly didn't know what they were even trying to do, nor what they have done in the past. All she knew was that she had to be different, a feeling that manifested itself in the note still tucked away in her waistband.

The pair headed down the shaky steps of the building and out onto the lush greenery of the Glade, as Alby had called it earlier. Immediately, Charly felt eyes bore into her as boys suddenly stopped hacking at trees and plunging trowels into fresh soil. Some were reminiscent of the stares she had first met arriving in the box; looks of surprise and inquisitiveness accompanied by hushed whispers to others. Some were a bit more rude.

"Stop ogling her, shank," a dark-haired boy burst out to her left. He slapped the boy beside him upside the head, who previously had been staring at Charly with glazed over eyes and a smile plastered lazily to his face. "She'd never go for a slinthead like you. Me, however…"

His voice trailed off as he cast a coy smirk at Charly who, tight-lipped and unblinking, did not return the gesture.

"Hey," Alby's voice boomed sternly. He didn't yell, but this low growl of a demand was most certainly worse." Jack, turn that shuck head of yours back to that soil. Remember the rules." Jack and his friend returned to their work abruptly, any hint of a smile wiped from their faces. Chary looked up at Alby, who gestured forward.

"Rules?" she questioned after they had walked a few more paces. Alby's eyes did not meet hers. Instead, they were fixated forward.

"We only have three rules here in the Glade. Number one, do your part. Number two, never harm another glader. By actions, or words." Charly looked back at Jack, who was now furiously plunging his shovel into the soil.

"And three," Alby continued. "Never go into the Maze." He broke his gaze and glanced at the towering walls. Charly followed his eyes to the maze doors and came to a stop. They were even more horrifically intimidating from ground level. She squinted, trying to see the intricate twists and turns that kept them in the Glade, but her eyes were met with an eerie darkness. It wasn't an empty darkness, the kind that signifies nothingness. Instead, this darkness was that of a cloak that kept the horrors of the maze hidden, unknown to her and the rest of the gladers. Charly almost preferred the nothingness

"Greenie, we've got a lot to get through!" Alby called out from about thirty paces ahead of her. Charly ran to keep up with him. "Trust me," he mused as she reached his side, "you'll get plenty of time to stare at those doors. More time than you'll want."

"Why aren't we allowed out? Surely that's got to be important in order for-"

"You've got this infuriating habit of asking questions when 'ya ought not to, don't you, greenie?" Alby questioned as they approached the heart of the glade. Charly could hear a snicker from behind her, and she turned to meet a familiar head of tousled blonde hair.

"I'll second that," he chimed in to Alby's amusement, leaning up against a wooden post surrounding a garden of vegetables. Charly shot him a sardonic smile.

"Don't you have a, err, job to get back to? Or something?"

_Fantastic comeback there, Charly._

Newt snickered and walked towards her and Alby, and for the first time she noticed the slight way in which he favored his right leg. Newt caught her stare briefly, and for a moment there was a flash of sadness, his smile gone momentarily before reappearing suddenly as if nothing had happened

"Being second-in-command to this shank doesn't take too much outa me," he replied, giving Alby a jovial pat on the back. "He runs around doin' all the work - very well, mind you - and I'm here to make sure no one drops dead. Essentially."

"Good that," said Alby before jokingly pushing Newt aside. "Now go make sure Frypan's about done with dinner, I'm starving to shuck death." Newt gave him a quick, casual salute before heading over to a large building. It was circular, walls enforced with logs supporting a straw roof

"That's what we call Homestead. Little one next to it is the kitchens. Homestead is where most of us gladers sleep, but since you're the greenie, you'll probably be outside with most of the boys." Charly frowned at the thought of not necessarily having to sleep outside, but absolutely at the thought of sleeping amongst a group of boys she hardly even knew. At her grimace, Alby quickly noted, "if anyone gives 'ya a hard time, let me know. Don't think you'll have too much of a problem. Now, the glade is divided into four sections…

Charly heard Alby speaking, but for some reason could not focus on the words he was spouting out. The gravity of the situation was settling in on her. She had hoped that context would give her some reassurance and logical backing to the situation, but there was no comfort in Alby's words. With every new fact about her surroundings Charly found herself diving deeper into her memory, trying to figure out why this was happening to her, to everyone here. But each time she resurfaced into reality more confused than before. She was here and there was no amount of wishing or dreaming that could change that.

"…med-jacks, slicers, and the track-hoes. Got it?" Alby's question brought Charly back into the present, but she continued to stare blankly ahead of her, lost in her thoughts.

"Alby…why does this, all of this, exist? Why are we here?" Charly's voice was quiet, almost desperate. She met Alby's eyes, which softened as they met her gaze.

"Dunno, Charly. I've been here nearly a year. I still don't know."

The pair stood in silence as Charly tried her best to stomach reality. After a few moments, Alby straightened up, expression hardening once again.

"You'll be starting your keeper training under Gally with the builders. Gally!" He called out to a group of boys working to assemble a small hut. Gally quickly instructed the boys to get water and jogged to Alby's side, smiling brightly at Charly, who returned a small grin.

"I'm takin' you under my wing tomorrow, am I?" he asked, resting an elbow on Alby's shoulder.

"Looks like it, although I don't know if I would trust me with any power tools."

"Shuck, I don't know if I trust half the current builders with them either. No need to go worrying yourself, greenie. There's dinner in the kitchens if you -"

An earth-splitting rumble broke out over the entire glade as Charly's eyes shot open in surprise. Her knees buckled and she threw out a hand to Gally, who immediately grabbed her and held her upright. Much to her shock, the two boys looked completely unfazed.

"What…the hell…" she muttered as her knees still shook, a horrible grinding noise echoing around the enclosed space, filling her ears.

Gally nodded to the west doors. They were movin

"That's not possible…" Charly stammered, her eyes glued to the wall.

"Every day. Same time, without fail. They close and don't open until morning." Gally's voice sounded exasperated, and Charly thought back to Alby's words. _I've been here nearly a year_. A year. Stuck inside the maze with no escape.

"That's why you don't go into the maze," Alby said, voice stern once again.

"We're trapped in here, aren't we?" Charly asked, looking to the boys for some sort of answer. Alby gave her an emotionless look before turning for the kitchens.

Charly ate alone in silence that night. Frypan handed her what looked like strew with cooked vegetables, offering a smile that went unreturned. She watched the other boys talk with each other, laugh with each other. It was hard to imagine any of them coming up in the box frightened and confused like she was now. It was like this was natural, like this was home. To be fair, this was all any of them knew as home. They had nothing to contrast this life with, no family or friends to compare to those who surrounded them. For all she knew, they could have all been the best of friends before being sent up here. They could have been mortal enemies. Family. Strangers. But none of that mattered now, because they were here. Charly began to feel sick, opting to scoot her broccoli pieces around the plate with her fork instead, then stabbing them in frustration.

"Now what'd that broccoli do to you, greenie?" Newt placed his own plate down across the table and leaned back into the chair, sighing as he stretched out. Charly, still immersed in her thoughts, didn't look up. Newt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together.

"Right, my bad, _Charly_," he corrected himself, exaggerating the use of her name with a smile.

"I'm…actually not too hungry, I think I'm going to head to bed." She muttered, avoiding his gaze. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see his smile fade and his brows furrow.

"Listen, I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, voice softening in concern. She could sense the sincerity in his eyes, but began to get up before he had even finished the sentence. She couldn't have this conversation. Not today, not right now.

"Goodnight, Newt. I'll see you in the morning." She grabbed her plate hastily off the table and strode to the sinks where other boys stood wearing aprons and taking sponges to cutlery, not before dropping her silverware in her rush. It clattered across the hard floor, bringing silence to the room as people stopped their conversations and turned their attention to the noise. Charly bent to pick up her fork and knife to some sniggers, but most simply gave her a look of pity and returned to their conversations, chatter picking up once again.

Face turning crimson to match her hair, she promptly placed the dishes on the counter and walked hurriedly out into the open air, the coolness of night washing over her entire body.

There were only a few boys scattered amongst the clearing. Some chatting, blankets wrapped around their shoulders, while some rested in hammocks, lazily swinging back and forth. Charly approached them slowly, almost cautiously, eyeing the ground for a spot she could rest. A boy quickly made eye contact with her.

He had striking blonde hair and looked no older than eleven, maybe twelve. He gave her a toothy grin and waved a hand at her and Charly couldn't help but smile and wave back. It was one of the first warmer welcomes she had received in the glade. The boy turned over in his hammock and shut his eyes as did his friends.

Charly felt herself relax slightly as she finally sat down by the base of a tall tree, hugging her knees to her chest and pulling a worn quilt over her now shivering form. She eased herself onto the cold earth, laying one way then another, failing to find anything remotely comfortable. Sighing, she resorted to laying flat on her back, staring up at the tall oak tree until it became blurred, sleep slowly encapsulating her.

Bright lights. An alarm. Charly woke blinking, her vision blurred and going in and out. Her hands gripped below her, but instead of fistfuls of dirt, her fingers grasped around cool metal. A table, She sat up, hitting her head on something. A machine, white and reflective with what seemed like thousands of buttons. Her vision blurred again and Charly lunged forward, catching herself before she hit the table. A piece of paper fluttered delicately onto the floor, thrown to the ground as she lost her balance. As it twisted and turned in the air, she could see small, hurried script running across it, accompanied with the overwhelming feeling that the piece of paper was something important. But why couldn't she remember? She needed to get out of this room.

Using her hands, she flung one leg over the side of the table at a time, needing to steady herself so that she didn't fall off. Slowly, she began to slide off the table, but as she landed on the ground, her knees buckled and she collapsed, her torso slumping up against the white wall of the small room. But she hadn't landed on the cold linoleum as she had suspected. Instead, she grasped onto white fabric, pulling it out from underneath her. A lab coat, stamped with a label. WICKED.

Her vision went blurry once more, causing Charly to brace herself against the wall. Darkness, lightheadedness, but then the scene came back to her. The paper. She greedily grasped for it as the alarm continued to sound. This was familiar; she knew that although could not bring back any hints as to why. The ink was smudged, as though its writer had scrawled away hastily.

_Get in the box. Get them out. Don't trust WICKED._

Get in the box? Using her hands to help her up the wall, Charly stood, and through her blurred vision could see a red light blinking in time with the alarm. Blackness. She saw again, and she was stumbling through the door of the operation room. Blackness. She was five feet away from a metal box, sunken into the ground and surrounded by a system of pulleys. The note was clutched tightly in her hand. Blackness. She knelt to the ground, trying to ease herself down. This had to be the box, this had to be what it meant. Why was she trusting the words of some unknown author? Blackness. She had fallen into the box, hearing the two metal doors swing shut above her. The sound of cranking machinery. Blackness.

Then, a blood-curdling scream.

"Charly. Hey, Charly - Charly!"

The quilt was ripped off of her as a pair of hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her as she realized the scream was her won. Charly opened her eyes. Gally was gripping her shoulders tightly, eyes wide and forehead wrinkled in concern. There were now a considerable amount of gladers resting in the clearing, all with their eyes on her for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"It was just a dream, shhh, you're alright," Gally said quietly, and the rest of the boys turned back over, closing their eyes once again. Their relaxed demeanor gave Charly the impression that this wasn't the first time a greenie had woken up screaming.

"You alright there, greenie?" Gally asked again, releasing his grip and sitting back on the ground. "Scared the klunk out of me." Charly breathed heavily, but couldn't bring herself to recall anything that had happened out loud.

"I'm fine," she sputtered, exhaling deeply and closing her eyes. "Just a bad dream, like you said."

There was a slam of a door in the distance and soon, Charly saw a figure tearing across the glade towards the clearing. As he got closer, she could see that he was limping. Newt.

"Everything…okay?" he asked between panting, his eyes wide as he looked down at Charly who had wrapped herself back in the quilt, more for metaphorical comfort than warmth.

"Yeah, m'fine," Charly said quietly, pulling back into her covers. All she wanted to do was pull the blanket over her head and hide in embarrassment.

"I just heard, well I thought..."

"Bad dream. It's okay, really."

"Right. Well if you wanted to come sleep in the Homestead, if that'd make you feel -"

"I'm fine Newt, really." Charly insisted, but could help smile at his concern. Her grin seemed to put him at ease, as Newt fell back into his confident stature.

"Good that," he stated as Gally chuckled, earning a scowl from Newt. Gally put his arms up in surrender, and Newt took one more cautious glance at Charly before turning around and heading back to the Homestead.

"What was that about?" Charly asked Gally in hushed tones, and he lay back onto the ground cradling his head in his hands.

"Nothin', greenie," he sighed, closing his eyes. "You'll have fun with that one, though."

"You're ridiculous," Charly yawned, rolling her eyes and sinking back into the ground. She stared up at the sky, pausing for a couple of moments before she noticed what was abnormal. There were no stars. She didn't know why, whether this specific detail was the last straw in terms of separation from her previous life or what, but Charly's eyes began to brim with tears. She shut them tightly, willing the tears not to fall. But the words of the note burned against her closed eyes, as though etched there permanently.

What did it mean? The words scrawled so rushed on a piece of paper, instructions meant for the person who she was in the dream. For her. She pulled the piece of paper out of her waistband once again, needing something tangible to grasp onto. The same words were etched upon the paper, albeit now the note was worn, the paper soft. WICKED. The same logo she had seen on the lab coat, repeated in capital letters on the note.

She stuffed the paper back into her waistband, forcing her eyes shut. Sleep would help.

**_So what do you guys think?! Be sure to let me know about your speculations about the note and Charly's dream in the comments. As always, you're all wonderful._**

**_Quick question to leave you all with- team Newt, or team Gally? Any team Charly's?_**


	3. The Role

_**Hello lovely new followers and favoriters! I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story so far. We've only just scratched the surface of the actual plot and I'm so looking forward to when you guys start to see it unfold. I've had the beginning of this story written for a while, which should explain the quick uploads, but for now on I think I will be uploading bi-weekly. I have another chapter and a half ready to go, so you should see the next upload on Wednesday! But for now, enjoy. As always, ****I own nothing aside from Charly and the storyline that my imagination has been harboring. All Maze Runner characters and initial storyline belong to James Dashner.**_

A small sliver of light appeared over the east wall, casting a dim, orange haze over the glade. Charly was awake. She had abandoned all attempts at falling asleep after she had woken up screaming in the night, the memory of the stark white operating room and note failing to fall from her mind. She sat up quickly, surveying the scene.

All of the gladers were asleep, sprawled out over the ground covered in blankets, some resting in hammocks with a stray arm or leg hanging off the side and grazing the grass below. She slowly pushed the quilt off of her and stood, tiptoeing around the sleeping boys and heading, well, she didn't know where. Away.

A gentle moo caught her attention, and looking to the south side of the east wall she saw pens of animals. Cows, sheep, and pigs roamed about in small though well-made pens, kicking up dust from sections of the ground where the grass had been grazed away. Charly walked over and leaned up against the wooden fence post, resting her chin on the cross-bar. A cow ambled over to where she stood perched on the fence and sniffed at her elbow before scratching its head on the post.

Charly smiled, raising a hand to scratch the animal's head, stroking its soft muzzle. She glanced to her left at the Bloodhouse, and grimaced as her fingers ran across the cow's soft coat.

"You're like us, huh," she cooed, staring into the cow's deep, brown eyes. "You didn't ask to be here either." The animal prodded at the ground with its nose, apparently losing interest in being pet. Safe in their pen, but there was no exit aside from the Bloodhouse, and Charly didn't know if she considered that to be an exit at all.

"Eerily similar," she murmured, crossing her hands under her chin.

"You know, we've got a lot of shuck crazy people in the glade, but none of them have ever resorted to chatting up the bloody cows."

Charly laughed for the first time since arriving, nodding her head towards the ground, not needing to look around to see who had spoken. The boy's accent spoke confidently for itself. Newt walked up beside her, folding his arms and resting them on the worn fence post.

"We were all like this, you know," he began after she did not reply. "Scared, confused, you name it. Most greenies don't even leave Homestead for a couple days after we finally get them outa the shuck box."

"Even Mr. Second-In-Command?" Charly quipped with a grin.

"Well, no, actually," Newt said with a groan as he hopped off the fence and shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn cargo pants. "I'm one of the few original gladers. We woke up here, like we'd just fallen asleep, about twenty of us. Most of us are still around." He bit down on his lip, casual smile fading. "Some of us aren't."

Charly pursed her lips. "What happened to the others?"

"Some were just jacked in the head, couldn't take the glade," Newt sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. "Others got hurt, in the maze or by another glader. Gladers who hurt other gladers get banished."

Charly raised her eyebrows, concerned wrinkles stretching across her forehead. Gladers attacking other gladers? Banishment?

Newt saw her expression and quickly countered, "we've only had to do that twice. Twice in one year. It's a last resort."

"A last resort that's been used!"

"Well it wasn't exactly easy establishing order here at first! Imagine if you didn't have us to explain what was happening when you came out of that box." Newt raised his voice defensively, and Charly winced at his tone. "Alby stepped up. That's why he's so respected 'round here. We all had to find our niche, build a community. It didn't come quickly, but we've come a long way."

Charly looked at him, studying his face. Newt looked no younger than seventeen, yet there were small wrinkle lines around his eyes, cuts and scars along his neck, his shoulders. But most prominent were his eyes, normally self-assured and glistening, now deep and sorrowful. Exhausted. Not only had the glade taken a physical toll on the boy, but an emotional one as well.

"Listen, there are people who put us in here. Creators of some sort, at least that's what we call 'em. If they wanted to punish us or examine us individually, they would have put us in here alone. But they didn't, we have each other. No one should have to go through any of this alone, ya know, carry the burden by themselves." He smiled, his normal cheeky grin spreading across his face. "So how about you stop talking to your cow friends over there and come back to Homestead?" he joked, throwing a long arm around Charly's shoulders and leading her back towards the center of the glade.

"Hey, they're prettier than you lot," Charly laughed, looking up at Newt as they strode across the lush grass. She didn't protest the arm now loosely resting around her. It was nice; nice to laugh, to feel at ease.

"Still the bundle of joy we pulled out of the box yesterday, I see."

"Oh shush, you love it."

"Whatever you say, greenie," Newt taunted, placing emphasis on the name.

"I hate when you call me that," Charly sighed as she threw her head back in exasperation. Newt chuckled.

"I know you do. You seem to dislike a lot of things. Is there anything you _do _like, love?" Charly paused for a moment as they reached the shabby wooden fortress.

"Books," she stated definitively. "I like books. At least, I think I like books…not like I can remember reading any."

"Don't have any books in the glade,"Newt laughed. "Would be nice, though. We may not be able to escape this maze physically, might as well escape mentally."

All of a sudden, eight boys burst from the doors or a small hut, jogging in pairs towards each entrance to the maze clad in backpacks and running shoes. They hardly had to break stride in front of the concrete doors before a rumble undulated through the glade and they began to slide open, as if perfectly on cue. Charly held up a hand to point at the boys, mind turning.

"Runners?" she questioned, trying to remember the roles Alby had rattled off to her yesterday.

"Mhmm," Newt nodded, pulling back his arm and crossing it over his other across his chest. "Crazy shanks, I'll tell you that much." "Nice of you," scoffed Charly. "Bet they get more work in than the second-in-command, though."

Newt turned to her, expression now solemn and Charly's face fell. She only meant it as a joke, why did he seem to affected by a simple comment?

"Can't say I disagree," he muttered, voice deep as it was when he was talking about the original gladers. "'Was a runner once." Newt nodded to his leg, which he put a little pressure on before shifting back to his stronger one. "Anyway, runners leaving means I'm late. Go get something to eat, you're starting with Gally soon, remember?"

He gave her a quick grin before hastily heading off into the maze of small tents, disappearing quickly. Charly frowned, but the growl of her stomach sent her off to the kitchens.

* * *

><p>"Thanks Fry," Charly chimed as the omelet landed with a thud onto her plate. She turned on her heel and surveyed the crowd, searching for some sort of familiarity when she spotted a head of bright blond hair. Grinning, she squeezed her way through the throngs of the breakfast crowd and set her plate down next to the boy. He looked startled at her presence, but his expression quickly softened into a toothy grin.<p>

"Morning! I'm Billy," the boy said cheerfully before shoveling some eggs into his mouth.

"Nice to meet you, Billy," she smiled warmly. "I'm Charly."

"I know," he said, looking down to hide his sheepish grin. Charly laughed, but a darting figure at the end of the room caught her eye. It was Alby. His strides filled with purpose, he pushed past the gladers and over to the doors, pulling aside Newt who had been chatting with Minho. He leaned in close and whispered words into his ear, all the while avoiding eye contact with anyone. Newt's eyes grew wide and the pair disappeared out the doors of the Homestead.

"That's normal," Billy shrugged, having followed Charly's gaze to the doors. "Alby and Newt always sort out things going on around here before any of us even notice somethin's wrong!" He returned to his eggs, unfazed.

"This little shuck face annoying you, greenie?" Gally came up behind Billy and brought him playfully into a chokehold, ruffling up his hair with another. The boy laughed, bawling up his tiny fists and ramming them against Gally's forearm. Gally chuckled, leaning forward onto the table and looking at Charly. "So, you ready?"

Charly took one last glance at the door where Alby and Newt had disappeared before pushing the hair out of her face and beaming up at Gally.

"Ready as I'll ever be!" she shrugged before getting to her feet. Gally sarcastically bowed his head, waving his arms to his left allowing Charly to lead their way out into the open air. The glade was deceivingly warm, and though a slight breeze rustled the leaves of the Deadheads, the sun beat down relentlessly onto Charly's skin. She squinted in the bright light, reaching up and pulling her dark hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It was then when shouts shattered the silence.

"Med-jacks! We need med-jacks!"

Boys from all over the glade sprinted towards the maze doors, more shouts emerging from all over as Charly could see figures emerging from the maze.

"C'mon!" Gally shouted, grabbing her upper arm as he tore through the glade towards the growing crowd. Charly was jerked forward, quickly stumbling to get her feet underneath her as she ran with Gally, fear creeping up from the bottom of her chest. Cries of agony ripped through the air as they pushed through the crowd, trying desperately to see just what had happened. Squeezing between the last few gladers Charly came to a halt, breath catching at the scene before her.

Newt limped forward with Alby, arm hoisted around a boy with deep brown hair who was struggling to walk, face pale and body debilitated. He was a runner she knew not by name, though she had watched him head into the maze what couldn't have been more than twenty minutes prior. As soon as they passed through the maze doors the pair collapsed onto the ground. Charly's gut dropped and she threw a hand swiftly over her mouth. She could see why there was an urgent call for med-jacks.

The runner's hand had been cleaved off cleanly at the wrist.

Two boys burst forward from the crowd, pulling sections of cloth from a leather bag and pressing them to the boy's wound promptly to no avail. Blood poured from the wound like a river, soaking through the thin fabric and the boys gave each other hasty glances, the only thing that pierced through their seemingly calm demeanor. The boy's eyelids began to droop closed and his screams had halted, face the color of sheetrock.

Charly looked around eyes laced with panic, but the surrounding gladers only watched on in horror as the boy's life seemed to fall through their hands like finely milled sand.

"He's losing too much blood!" Charly screamed, but Gally held a warning hand out in front of her. "You have to do something!"

"Charly, we can't -"

She pushed Gally's arm aside and ran forward, dropping to her knees beside the bleeding boy. She took hold of her sleeve below the elbow and pulled, ripping the length of fabric from her shirt. Grimacing, Charly peeled away the layers of soaked cloth, fingers working nimbly to tie her sleeve in a tight knot just below the boy's elbow. She breathed a brief sigh of relief as the blood flow wavered and the boy's hitched breath came in slow and steady.

"Alcohol," she thought to herself, then turned to the group.

"Alcohol! I need alcohol, for infection!"

The boys stood staring at her, some indignantly at her tone of voice and some still in shock at the runner's missing appendage.

"Look, do you want him to live or not?! Help me!" she shouted. She didn't care about precedence or ranking right now, what mattered is making sure that this boy didn't die right here in her arms.

"Let's go!" she heard Newt shout from beside her, and a boy took off towards Homestead. He was now standing, though hunched over and grimacing, a pain in his eyes she'd never seen before. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, opening them only to meet her gaze.

"I'm fine," he mouthed quietly and gave her a reassuring nod. Charly didn't have time to protest as she felt a plastic bottle and fresh cloth being shoved into her hand. Her shaking fingers fumbled to unscrew the top, pouring some of the foul liquid onto the fabric.

"I'm sorry," she whispered apologetically to the boy as she pressed the damp cloth firmly to his wound. The boy thrashed violently, his mouth opening wide but instead of a scream came a deep, guttural groan. The two med-jacks pounced onto the boy, pinning his legs and arm down as Charly clenched his wrist, biting down on her lip and holding the cloth tightly in place.

"We need to get him to Homestead," uttered the boy to Charly's right, stealing quick glances her way as he held the boy's arm down with both of his own. "There's more supplies there, clean bandages…"

Charly simply nodded the boy's limbs stilled, his head rolling to the side but his chest rising and falling steadily. She sank to the ground as the two med-jacks hoisted the boy's limp body into the air and carried him towards the Homestead, the crowd slowly dispersing as Alby barked hasty commands. Charly's head sunk into her shaking hands, still struggling to wrap her head around what had just happened.

"Charly," Newt breathed from behind her. She let out a sharp exhale to compose herself before rising to meet his gaze. Deep wrinkles of pain were still etched on his forehead, but he quickly averted his eyes and nodded his head, gesturing back to the center of the glade.

"You're not okay.." she voiced wearily as Newt hobbled past her, his limp now worse and more noticeable than it had been before, but he ignored her.

"Newt!"

As he passed her, the back of his ripped white tunic came into view, revealing a sequence of gashes across his broad shoulders. But still he walked ahead.

"Are you crazy?" Charly half yelled, half laughed as she jogged to catch up with the boy, who still gave no indication of hearing her cries. "You're hurt, let me-"

"I'm fine," he stiffened, jaw clenched and eyes fixed forward. In spite of his tense exterior she could see him purse his lips, furrow his brow as if to mentally fight off the pain.

"You're insane, that's what you are," she muttered, eyes boring into Newt's, and she reached hesitantly towards his arm. Immediately he recoiled and his weak knee buckled, but before he could collapse Charly grasped for his arm, pulling him back up and thrusting her shoulder beneath his underarm. Newt groaned through clenched teeth but held on to her tightly as he stood back up. The pair silently started forward, his hand gripping tightly around Charly's shoulder.

**_I think one of the reasons I loved writing this chapter so much was because Charly finally got a bit of a voice behind her! But will she be fit for the title of heroine? Let me know your thoughts._**

**_Also, I think it's time for a ship name...Chewt? Ew, no. Newtly? Acceptable. I'll talk to you all on Wednesday, where I'll be publicly replying to reviews as well - make sure to leave one!_**


	4. The Bloom

_**Evidently, I have a hard time with waiting to usher these chapters out to you. I think from now on, I'll post them as soon as I have them done, which means even after this update you should have chapter five out closely following!**_

**_Part of the reason I wanted to do another update so quickly was because I was beyond thrilled about everyone's responses to the previous three segments. You're all stunning; I just wanted to thank you so much for reading and reviewing as much as you have been. It only fuels my already flaming passion for this story! Please keep reviewing, reading, favoriting..all of that, and be honest with the reviews! If there's something you want to see happen or have questions about, I would love for you all to let me know. But without further adieu, I'll get on to responding to the current reviews up until this point!_**

**Breg; Thank you so much! Team Newt is certainly getting some love :)**

**mormongirl33; Thank you, darling! Charly's just at the beginning of her character arc, so I'm with you and hope that she does develop into someone with a stronger voice to match that strong personality! As for your last point, I think you'll take a liking to this chapter, then :)**

**Guest; Thanks, I hope you keep reading!**

**Niclo121212; Yay for more Newtly! Thank you :)**

**julesjumper; YOU are lovely: you, who has reviewed every chapter thus far! I'm so happy you're enjoying it, and I'll second you on the Chewt thing. Not cute. I hope you enjoy this update :)**

**Descending (Sara); Thank you! It's always so nerve wracking to put a a character out there and hope he or she is likable and, more importantly, believable, so I'm glad you're a fan. And Surprise! Early update :)**

**lyra-lou; Charly is essentially a more feminine spelling of Charlie, and perhaps more commonly known as a nickname for many "Charlotte"'s. Spoilers? Maybe. And you are absolutely correct! This is taking place after about a year in the Glade, and although I don't recall if we know when Gally got stung, this is taking place before that event. I thought he was a great character (in terms of the role he played and what he stood for, not exactly the nicest chap, was he?), and I just wanted to give him a fuller backstory.**

**Sam0728; Thank you for reading! I don't think I can say much about whether or not Newt will be telling Thomas about Charly, but I can say that we won't be doing any skipping time! Everything will be happening pretty linearly. Thanks for reading, hope you like the update ;)**

**AliceInNeverland95; Thank you! I think they're pretty compatible myself, at least, they banter well together :) I get where you're coming from - you're not alone in your thoughts about Gally. There are plenty of people who dislike his character. **

**Zstar1; Thank you so much! I'm so excited about all of the shipping. Ship away, you lovely readers, ship away.**

**themadgears; What a sweet thing for you to say, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the way the characters are constructed :)**

**Katerina-Evasivi; Our lone Team Gally supporter! I asked because, while I was writing that chapter, I genuinely considered creating something between them...so we'll see how that turns out ;)**

**Something Like Me; Ahhh my first review was yours, so I'd like to take a moment and thank you for that :) I hope you continue reading and enjoy the rest!**

_**Like I said, you guys are incredible. Now enough of me, let's get to the good stuff. **_

* * *

><p>It was a long walk to the Homestead, their silence only interrupted by Newt's occasional bursts of discomfort and Charly's apology as she nearly pitched him into the doorframe, burdened by his tall stature. Through hastened breath he directed her upstairs into a small room where the two med-jacks stood, wrapping clean bandages around the runner's wound as he lay listlessly on a table. They looked up as Newt slumped into a chair, bracing himself by gripping each armrest until his knuckles were white.<p>

"What happened in there?" inquired one of the boys as he fastened the bandages with a metal prong.

"Grievers," Newt sputtered. "Stan ran back, told us George was stung, but the time we got to him the Griever had already…he was gone. Shuck thing was waitin' for us though, got Stan as he tried to reach in for George and got me as I pulled Stan away. Bloody grievers, in broad daylight."

"Grievers?" Charly whispered to no one in particular, but her question went unnoticed as the med-jacks continued to fix up Stan. Newt growled in pain again, locking out his elbows as he pushed at the wooden armrests with a grimace across his face. Charly frowned.

"Come on, let me look at it."

"It'll heal over."

"You're even more stubborn than I am. They're deep, Newt." Charly glared down at him as he nodded reluctantly. She walked over to the table where Stan now lay, his expression peaceful and body wiped of blood and dirt. His tourniquet was removed and a blanket had been placed gently over him.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing to a large bucket of water that sat at the head of the table. The blonde med-jack nodded, bending to grab it and gingerly handing it her way. Charly smiled appreciatively.

"Well done. Earlier, I mean." The boy took a glance down at Stan before shooting her an approving grin. "I"m Clint." Charly shoved the bucket under one arm so she could shake his outstretched hand with the other.

"Charly."

"How'd you know what to do?" the other boy asked sheepishly. He was certainly younger than Clint, sporting buzzed, dark hair.

"Dunno," Charly shrugged as she hoisted the bucket back into her grip. "Instinct, I suppose?"

"Better instinct than Jeff or Clint, I might add."

Alby stood in the doorway, arms crossed eyes fixed almost menacingly on Clint who then promptly began to wet a washcloth to dab away at Stan's forehead. Alby huffed then turned to Charly, who stood frozen clutching the bucket of water.

"I say we name you a med-jack. Whad'ya say, keeper?" Charly's fingers clamped around the bucket even tighter as Clint looked up.

"I don't see any reason why we shouldn't."

"Good that." Alby gave Charly a curt nod before heading back down the steps just as quickly as he had arrived. It was a few moments before anyone else spoke.

"Thanks," murmured Charly hesitantly, suddenly very aware of the commanding air that seemed to fall upon the room from Alby's presence. However, her words were greeted with a nervous smile from Jeff.

"You deserve it, greenie." Clint nodded showing his approval, and Charly felt the warmth flow back into her like a fire lit from within. The two stood and stepped out of the room, and Charly couldn't help but beam.

"Not to be a burden or anything, but slowly dying over here," Newt called, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Right!" Charly exclaimed as she hurried back to Newt, water sloshing from side to side in her haste. She eased the bucket to the floor as she knelt down beside the chair, examining the deep gashes across Newt's back. trying her best not to pull a face that looked just as uneasy as she felt, Charly hesitantly reached forward and took the ripped fabric in her hands. It was matted with dried blood, and as she gently pulled it away from Newt's skin, his hands quickly gripped the sides of the chair, gritting his teeth.

"Christ, Charly. Be bloody careful, will you?" His words were stern, but voice still somehow laden with a distinctively cheeky undertone. She smirked as she carefully lay the fabric of his shirt back down.

"What, so I have to prod you with medical instruments for you to finally say my name?"

"Don't get used to it," he huffed with a coy smile.

Dipping a clean cloth into the bucket of cool water, Charly pried the tears in the fabric open wider. She bit her lip and pressed the damp cloth to Newt's skin. He jolted forward but quickly regained composure, shakily settling back down onto the wooden chair, eyes closed. She moved the cloth down the wound, every so often interrupted by Newt's quiet gasps or small flinches. Charly halted, sighing and looking closer at his injuries. This wouldn't do.

"I, err…if you could just…" Her voice trailed off quietly as she tugged lightly at the hem of Newt's tattered white shirt.

"Right, yeah. Gimme a mo'."

Newt crossed his arms and reached down, lifting his shirt slowly to his chest before grimacing as his wounded skin stretched. Charly reached forward, taking his shirt back and pushing it over his head as Newt grabbed it from her. He let the shirt fall to the ground and tousled his already messy hair before cautiously straightening back up. Again, she took the cloth to Newt's back and small goosebumps began to appear across his toned shoulders.

"Well," said Charly, tossing the dirty cloth to the ground and swiping a clean one from the cabinet beside her. "Good news is that there's no dirt or anything, the cuts are pretty clean."

"Yeah, that's _fantastic_ news," Newt drawled.

"At least you've still got your hand, mind you."

"Mhmm, good that."

Charly unfolded the clean cloth and patted it across his back softly. Her eyes traveled across his back, scrutinizing the cuts before she was ready to bandage them, then let her fingertips graze lightly across his skin. Newts shoulders rose slowly, chest swelling before he exhaled sharply out of his mouth, his breath catching slightly. Charly's fingers recoiled quickly, as if his skin had suddenly burned her.

"Sorry," she sputtered. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he chuckled in return, turning to face her wearing his normal smirk. He leaned forward and let his elbow rest on either knee, clasping his hands together with fingers intertwined. Charly gave him a grin too, but couldn't help shake the feeling of her hands against his back. Part of her hoped to forget the feeling altogether, but the other and perhaps more strong-willed side hoped that the electricity wasn't a one-sided affair.

She let her smile fall as she swung her feet sideways, shifting her back to the cabinet and closing her eyes. It was only this morning that she and Newt had been together at the fence of the cow pen. To Charly, it felt like an entirely different day.

"Is this how it is..how it's going to be? Every day?" Her voice was quiet. She wasn't even sure if she was asking Newt anymore. Silence resonated in the small loft and Newt's smile faded as well.

"Dunno, it's hard to say." There was a solemn tone in his voice, one she hadn't heard before. "We could be in here for five more weeks, five more years. Could be bloody dead tomorrow."

"I don't want to be dead tomorrow." The childish words came out of Charly's mouth before she could stop them, but Newt didn't laugh.

"You won't be dead tomorrow, Charly."

"You can't say that."

"Yes I can."

"Let's be realistic here."

Newt turned to her, eyebrows raised in a half exasperated, half amused expression. "You're not going to be dead tomorrow because I won't let you be dead tomorrow. Got that, greenie?"

Charly held out a hand, pinky extended. She looked around the room impatiently as Newt rolled his eyes, reluctantly wrapping his pinky around hers, shaking it for effect.

"Greenie," she scoffed as she pulled her hand back indignantly. The floorboards creaked as she stood to dust the dirt off her leggings.

"I'll need to take a look at that tomorrow, by the way," she noted over her shoulder before sliding the tie out of her hair and running a hand quickly through it. "It doesn't look to bad now, but it could get worse."

"If you wanted to spend more time with me, you could have just asked!" Newt taunted from his chair.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she laughed, turning on a hell to face him. "And put on a shirt." She picked up the tunic from the floor and balled it up, tossing it to him. But Newt just let the fabric hit his face and fall to to ground, that stupid smile still plastered to his face as Charly nipped down the stairs.

* * *

><p>For the rest of the day, time passed slowly. When people weren't emerging with missing limbs from the maze, duties normally consisted of the boys pushing each other around or napping in the shade of the Deadheads. There were two others who worked alongside Jeff and Clint; Tim, a lanky boy sporting a long mop of brown hair, and Stephen, a boy an inch or two taller than Charly with a broad, muscular torso and jet black hair. It seemed like after this morning's incident, the amount of respect she commanded had increased tenfold. Instead of staring at her scathingly from afar, they had invited Charly to sit with them as they talked about anything and everything, from potential ground plans for a second indoor sleeping area to why Stephen's hair wouldn't lay flat.<p>

Charly lay on the soft earth, head propped up against a log that Jeff and Tim were sat on, animatedly arguing over what Frypan would surely be serving for dinner tonight. The conversation was pushed out of Charly's head, however, by the same three sentences that haunted her dreams. The words etched on the note she still carried with her. She contemplated telling them, almost opening her mouth to do so but caught herself last minute. She had just started to get along with the gladers. She had found her niche, just like Newt assured her she would. But Charly couldn't help think that her true purpose lay elsewhere.

"Right, Charly?"

Tim's words snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Huh?" she said dully. Tim laughed.

"It'll be green beans and stew, won't it?"

"Uhh, sure Tim," she yawned, sitting upright and rubbing her eyes.

"Great help you are," Tim shrugged, offering her a hand as she stood up. "Let's go, food's ready."

A golden glow cast over the Glade as she and the boys ambled over to the Homestead, and what seemed to ominous and unforgiving a place yesterday now felt familiar. This set Charly at ease.

Just as she was feeling relaxed, a pair of large hands curved around her waist from behind and tickled her. She jumped and squealed as her flailing arms made contact with a muscular arm.

"Calm your buggin' head!" Gally laughed from behind her, rubbing his arm where Charly had unintentionally slapped him. "Haven't seen you all day and that's how you greet me?"

Charly smiled, relieved. "Sorry, bit jumpy. Today's been interesting."

"So I heard," said Gally, beaming and clapping both hands on her shoulders, causing Charly's knees to buckle a bit under the force. "Newest shucking med-jack, eh?"

"Sure, forget the part where I had to fashion a tourniquet out of my sleeve to save someone and their disembodied limb."

"Well that's not exactly a fun topic, is it? Never got the chance to tell you, that was pretty shucking impressive, by the way. Shut all of them up, for sure." He had gestured to the group of boys that stood in line a few feet in front of them and Charly recognized one of them immediately. Jack, one of the track-hoes who had mouthed off to her on the first day.

"Alby seemed pretty impressed too," Gally said, now speaking in hushed tones. "Doesn't happen too often. Most people go through keeper training and get placed in whatever role they jack up the least at. I can't remember the last time someone was assigned a role before they finished keeper training."

"It was weird to me too, don't get me wrong," Charly added, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't know why, I just knew what to do. You don't think it was because of something in my past, do you? Before all of this?"

Gally's eyes traveled to the ceiling, lips pursing in thought briefly before he nodded. "Could be. We all get these urges sometimes. Things we know we like, or know we're good at. Things that feel natural. It's kind of weird thinking they're from a time in our lives we don't remember. Kind of nice at the same time. Makes us feel like we're not goin' too crazy in here."

"Like it's all not too far away?"

"Like it's all not too far away."

The two, now carrying plates laden with food, grabbed a table and sat. Charly didn't hesitate to dig in, and was done within five minutes at the most. Gally, who still was attempting to cut into a baked potato with the side of his fork, looked up at her from across the table.

"So greenie, how have you been?"

Charly looked confused. "Fine, I guess? I mean I'm a little tired, but…"

"No, not that," interrupted Gally curtly, taking another bite of food. "I mean…how are you dealing with all of this. With the Glade?"

Charly nodded. "Best as I can, I guess. Seems like everyone's warming up to the idea of having me around."

"Like Newt?"

"Like what?"

"Nothing." Gally smirked down at his food. Charly stood up and leaned both her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands.

"Didn't sound like nothing," she cooed as Gally struggled not to laugh. He set down his silverware cautiously and stood, backing away with his hands up.

"Seems like I'm about done here," he smiled, quickening his pace as he slid between gladers and out the door. Charly grinned, shaking her head before tearing after him through the crowd.

"Damnit Gally!" she shouted with a laugh as she caught up to him, strolling towards the clearing.

"You know exactly what I said back there," he chided. "You just want to hear me say it again."

"I just - you are impossible," Charly sighed. "This isn't the time nor place for any of that, it's not happening."

"Might want to tell him that, then," he smirked. Charly pushed him aside playfully before collapsing onto the ground in a heap of blankets.

"I don't want to do anything right now. Nothing, aside from get out of here."

_Thunk. _Charly immediately sat up and pulled her hand back. She had felt something land next to her, something round, soft. She reached around on the ground, searching in the twilight. It was a flower.

Large and round, the petals were still closed, the stem neatly cut off at an angle leaving it only two or three inches long. The closed petals were smooth and white, what looked to soon be a tulip bud. Gally raised his eyebrows and smiled, walking backwards and nodding to something behind her before turning around back towards the Homestead.

Newt sauntered over to where Charly sat - a little stiffly, but carrying the same amount of confidence.

"So, is this an attempt at winning my affection after my life-saving efforts earlier today?" She twisted the stem between her thumb and forefinger, peering at the perfectly curved petals, unopened and pure.

"It's whatever you want it to be," he said flashing her a coquettish smile before sitting down next to her. He did so gingerly, as if every small movement caused him pain. Charly grimaced.

"How is it?"

"My back? Fine, bloody hurts sometimes but, for the most part, we're all fine. No sense in complainin' about it."

Charly laid back down, fixing her gaze on the starless sky above them.

"Why'd you pick the flower?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"The flower. It hadn't bloomed yet. Why did you pick it?"

Newt scoffed. "Flowers don't grow here hardly ever. Too dry, we try to use our water where we need it the most, you know, animals and growing food and such."

"So you cut it off?" Charly asked indignantly, knitting her brows together and turning to Newt.

"It wasn't going to survive," Newt shrugged simply, leaning cautiously back on one elbow. "Figured I'd get the bloody thing now when it was nice lookin', instead of when it was already too far gone. It has another day in it or so, I'd say."

She chuckled, causing Newt to look down at her with a puzzled grin across his face.

"What are you on about?"

"Everything has a meaning for you. The flower, why we're in here…everything."

He paused to think. "Well, if it didn't, everything would be pretty bloody useless. I'd like to think it's not."

Charly pulled at some of the grass beneath her, breathing in a deep breath of crisp air. Silence fell again, but she liked it. It was a good silence, a comfortable silence

"What do you think you'd be doing, you know, if you weren't stuck in here?" Charly let the thought flow freely from her mind.

"Dunno," shrugged Newt. "I don't think I'm still the person the 'ole creators shoved in here a year ago. It changes 'ya, bein' here. But if I had the choice?" He stroked his chiseled jaw, lost in thought.

"A dad."

Charly quickly stifled her giggles with her hand as Newt turned to her with a tight-lipped glare.

"Well not now, clearly! I'm only shucking seventeen or so," he explained defensively, but the corners of his mouth threatened to form into a grin. "'Ya know, one day, it could be nice. When you're in here you've kinda got no choice, you've gotta be like a family when we don't really know what that means. I like the idea of havin' a family."

He sat up gingerly and ran both his hands roughly through his hair, pushing the strands off his forehead.

"That sounded stupid out loud."

"No…no it didn't," Charly said softly, and she meant it. She thought the idea sounded nice. It was true. None of them had any idea what being a family meant nor what it felt like; the closest thing they had, and might ever have, was each other.

"It's not a stupid idea," she repeated again looking up at Newt. His face was slightly vacant as he stared off into the darkening sky. Charly found it suddenly very overwhelming to imagine the boy before the Glade. Somewhere off with his family; parents, siblings, maybe even pets. His hair clean cut and skin free from the dirt and nicks and scars. Clothes devoid of rips and tears, freshly washed and warm. With no reservations, she reached her hand and gently took hold of Newt's. His hand was much larger than her own, the skin roughened by carrying logs and gripping shovel handles. He didn't startle, but instead gripped her hand back tightly, dropping his head to smirk at the ground.

The two sat like that for a while. Immersed in the silence, hands loosely intertwined. Charly closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, sighing into a smile. Maybe they didn't have to leave. Maybe they could stay here in the Glade forever. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"Charly?"

"Mhmm?"

"You like books."

"Yes…" she said, voice trailing of in confusion.

"What kind?"

She strained her mind. "Maybe…fiction books. I like a good adventure."

He chuckled, slipping his hand out out of her grasp and warily rising to his feet. "Well, if it's adventure you want, you're in the bloody right place for that." He bent and swiped the flower out of Charly's hand, to which she feigned a pout.

"Night, greenie." And with that, he strode off into the darkness, twiddling the tulip between his fingers. Not once did the words etched on the note cross Charly's mind that night.

* * *

><p><em><strong>And there we have it. Next chapter should come out soon, so keep your eyes peeled. This chapter was a bit more fluffy than the previous ones, which is always good fun, but I can promise you things are about to change pretty abruptly. I had to get some more Newtly in ;)<strong>_


	5. The Test

**_I have to start out this chapter by simply stating my disbelief regarding a certain number. 56. There's a whopping total of 56 people following this story. What?! It baffles me, and I couldn't possibly be more grateful. I'm so happy that you all are loving TOGT just as much as I am, and I can't wait for you to follow along the plot I've had only in my head for so long. Shit's about to get real pretty soon. _**

**_In regards to reviews and comments, I'm glad you all seemed to like the Newtly fluff. I won't lie, it's fun for me to write. I love thinking about their dialogue - if you have any fluffy Newtly desires, let me know and I'll see if I can incorporate AT LEAST ONE before the end of the novel. Think small and sweet - that's more their style :)_**

**julesjumper; I thought it would fit her well too! Ironic though, because she really does hate when people take care of her, yet she has this ability to take care of others so well. And that is such an amazing compliment, thank you so much, I hope you'll continue to read and love it even more :)**

**Guest: Yay, someone said it! I think they have a really interesting dynamic as well; at least, Charly and the Gally I have conjured up in my mind that existed before he was stung. I really do love his character, I think trying to understand it makes you appreciate Dashner's books a little more. He's a good guy.**

**Guest: You and I both, my friend.**

**Zstar; The Newtly feels are certainly thriving, and it makes me so excited to see you excited. I feel like the equivalent of a happy little wiggly _puppy_ whenever I read your comments about how they're your OTP. I will happily ship with you, wiggly puppy butt and all. **

**mormongirl33; FIRST OF ALL, thank you so much for asking questions, they never go unappreciated and I love answering them. You will start to see bits and pieces of what the note may mean, but you might not fully understand it until the end comes. Keep updating me on your theories, though! And Gally is being nice and playful and brotherly because that's how I interpreted his personality to be before he was stung. However, this chapter will absolutely provide you with more information in that regard :)**

**AshleeMyree; I would have to agree with you there, love! Fluff writing and reading both make me happy, and while this story is definitely more based on the angst side of the situation given the nature of the predicament, I very possibly will write some more fluffy shorts in the future!**

**Niclo121212; I love that you think Charly is bloody cool. You're bloody cool.**

_**Right then. let's get this chapter on a roll. **_

* * *

><p>She woke in a cold sweat. Visions of the white medical room had once again filled her mind, this time more broken and pieced apart, more vague. If anything, the scene was getting harder and harder to recall the more time she spent in the Glade. She vowed to think on the matter today. It was her third day in the Glade, and unless she tried to figure out her dreams and the note, she had a sickening feeling that the days would never cease. She had to know what the other gladers were doing in order to escape.<p>

By this time, the Glade was buzzing with activity. The runners had darted off into the maze and the builders were off examining the walls closest to the north doors.

"Some kind of integrity issue," Jeff had conceded when she asked about it earlier. She could see the boys feeling around the edges of the doors, buckets of stirred cement being used to fill the cracks.

Just then, a steady alarm rang out across the field. It was the box. Charly's eyes widened, imagining another boy trapped in the box, scared and alone…

"It's just the supplies," Clint chortled, clearly amused by the look of terror etched across Charly's face. She scowled at him, the blaring noise still embedded in her memory. A few boys had jumped into the box, passing those standing by crates of goods. Running shoes, water satchels, cooking supplies, and leather goods. Newt stood by barking orders, picking up a smaller crate himself and limping back towards the Homestead.

"Have you guys ever tried sending someone back down?" she asked inquisitively.

"What, down the box hole?" Stephen replied, looking over from his spot resting on the ground. "Shuck thing won't move with someone in there, we've tried."

"Can't send someone back down after the box is gone too," added Clint. "The shaft is too deep, we don't have anything long enough to reach the bottom. Besides, if you go down too far…" He took one finger and dragged it across his throat.

"You…die?" Charly asked.

"Sent a guy down there once," he sighed. "Sliced right in half. Heard a scream and pulled him up, but only half of him came back."

Charly's stomach dropped as she tried to push the imagery of the scene out of her head. "What else have you guys tried?"

"Everything, t'seems like," scoffed Tim, collapsing cross-legged on the ground. "Climbing up the vines, scouting the maze every day, digging - which sounded like a good idea, but ended up being too risky…Alby and them are the ones that come up with the plans to try those things. You know, the council. They've been all hush-hush about something recently, but we haven't heard-"

"He's been stung!"

Looks of horror spread across the rest of the med-jack's faces as they stood there, feet glued to the ground in panic. Charly stared at them quizzically.

"What's going on?"

"We have to go. Now." Clint spat the words out before grabbing her by the elbow and sprinting towards the north entrance. Jeff and Stephen were ahead of them, sprinting frantically towards the builders who had been working on the wall. They were shouting, waving their hands and congealing in a tight circle. Whatever being stung was, it had to be a big deal. Even when Stan had been bleeding profusely from his severed hand, the med-jacks did not look nearly this distressed.

They came upon the scene quickly, and Charly saw that the tight circle was moving towards them as well. A limp hand dragged along the ground. They were carrying a body.

Gally.

Charly's mind spun as her heart plunged into her stomach. _No_ she repeated in her head, over and over like a sick, pleading mantra. _No. No. No. _But she had little time to think. Clint thrust his arms under Gally's armpits and hoisted him up as Jeff took hold of his boots.

"What happened?!" Clint yelled to the rest of the builders who were looking at their leader with shared horror-stricken gazes.

"Griever came out of nowhere, shuck thing just jumped him as he was patching up somethin' at the gate." The boy who had spoke remained expressionless, speaking the words softly.

Grievers. Again with the grievers. What the hell was in that maze?

"Grab his other side!" shouted Stephen as he crossed and placed both hands under Gally's back. But Charly stood there slack jawed, staring into Gally's now unrecognizable face. His mouth foamed as he convulsed violently against the grip of the med-jacks, eyes staring blankly at the sky. He groaned and twisted his neck, revealing what looked like black veins spiraling out from a single point. The sting.

"Charly! Get your buggin' head together!"

She blinked furiously and forced herself to reach out to Gally, grabbing hold of him just as Stephen had done. They were running now, Clint barking more instructions as more boys sprinted ahead to the Homestead. No noise registered in Charly's ears. The bodies moved in slow motion, she moved in slow motion. But how was everything happening so fast? It was like a horrible car crash; she couldn't tear her eyes from Gally. Gally, who she'd come to know so well in the past few days. Who she had just spoken to last night. She felt tears well up in her eyes, but didn't bother to wipe them away.

They crashed through the Homestead, squeezing themselves up the tight staircase. Stan, his hand cleanly bandaged, looked petrified, but suddenly seemed to know what had happened as he swept an arm across the bed, clearing it of pillows and blankets. The four threw Gally down onto the bed and scrambled, searching for something.

"Charly, grab the serum!"

Her eyes widened, staring at Clint as he and the others fastened Gally's wrists and ankles to the bed with leather buckles. "T-the what?"

Clint pointed furiously at a small cabinet, holding Gally's chest down with his other hand. She asked no questions but instead ran to the cabinet and threw open the door. A row of tubes stood upright, each possessing a sharp needle and filled with a bile-like liquid. Fumbling, she tore one out of the stand and turned back to him, holding it up towards him, but Clint shook his head.

Charly's chest fell, turning hurriedly back to the cupboard.

"No!" He shouted and she whipped her head back around. "That's right. But you need to stab him."

Charly looked on horrified, eyes drawn back to the large needle.

"But I-"

"Now!" he roared, and Charly lunged forward, plunging the needle into Gally's neck. He screamed in agony, chest rising off the bed as his body bucked relentlessly against the sting. But seconds later he was limp once more.

Charly's chest rose and fell heavily as she pulled the syringe from him, the liquid inside now gone. Her hands shook. She wanted to cry, but was unable to, instead looking down at Gally with shock etched across her face. The room was eerily silent. Then, it was as if someone had pressed the play button. Clint resumed his duties, cleaning up as Jeff and Stephen joined. Charly's feet were still fastened to the ground, letting her arm holding the syringe fall to her side.

A hand crept onto her shoulder, and though she didn't take her eyes of of Gally, she knew immediately who it was. Newt's rough thumb ran back and forth across her skin. It was his touch that suddenly made the tears forming in her eyes roll silently across her cheeks. Newt must have felt her body stiffen, for at that moment he pulled her body flush against his own, wrapping his arms protectively around her. She bit her lip and slinked her arms around his slim torso, digging her fingers into the torn fabric of his shirt. Gaze still fixed on Gally, she finally spoke.

"What's happening to him?" her voice was hardly even a whisper.

"The sting will kill 'ya if you don't get the serum injected," he replied quietly, chin lowering to rest on the top of her head as he spoke into her hair. "It comes with all our other supplies every week. You either die from the sting, or 'ya get the serum and go through the Changing. It's different for everybody, only had a few shanks ever get stung and live, but it brings back memories. The real kind. They're never the bloody same after that."

_They're never the bloody same after that._

Charly looked at Gally as he lay on the bed, occasionally a groan escaping from his open mouth, then shut her eyes. She couldn't look at him anymore. She let out a shaky sob and rested her forehead against Newt's chest. His arms tightened around her as did her own grip, fingers desperately grasping on to his tunic. Gladers began to leave the room one by one, trickling out, but Charly didn't move. Not for a long while. It was too surreal, too foreign a thought that the Gally she knew was now gone.

But for some reason, being in Newt's arms made the matter slightly more bearable.

* * *

><p>"We have to get out of here."<p>

Charly and Newt sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of the loft within the Homestead. There were a few rooms up here; spacious ones with beds, but only the high-ranked were able to stay in them. Charly ran her fingers across the unfinished wood, head resting in her hand.

"You say that like we haven't been trying," Newt scoffed, looking up at her heatedly.

"Well then," Charly spat, tossing her hair back. "Where's the next plan? Why aren't we acting quicker?"

"It's not that easy, love." Newt spoke the words bitterly. "You've seen what the maze can do now. You've seen us lose people. It's not like we can spare some shanks for a way out, that's not how it works. We'll have to wait."

"But we can't wait!" Charly rose her voice, not understanding how Newt could be so passive about this. "If we wait more, we're only going to lose more people. There've been two griever attacks in broad daylight - now I don't know much about these grievers, but if that's not supposed to tell us something, than I don't know what else the creators will do. They want us to do _something_."

Newt exhaled hotly, rubbing his palm across the back of his neck. "Things have been different lately. That hasn't gone unnoticed. We've been talking about it at gatherings."

"And?"

"We only know one thing. It started with you. Somethin' about you is important. Different. It's almost like the maze has been uneasy."

Charly felt a pang in her chest. She had to tell him about the note. Wordlessly, she reached a hand into her shirt pocket and pulled out the worn piece of paper.

"I was holding this in the box when I came up," she murmured, unfolding the piece of paper slowly. "I know I'm different. I know it means something. But I don't know what, or why." She held the piece of paper out to him.

Newt's eyes widened, scanning the note furiously.

"Charly…"

"I don't know why I didn't tell you about it sooner, I just thought that it would cause problems and-"

"Charly we need to tell Alby." He started to get up.

"No!" she shouted, throwing a hand out onto his knee. "Please don't tell them. I don't know why, but I know I need to do this myself. I _can _do this by myself." Thoughts of the dream ran sporadically through her mind again. She knew she should mention those too, she knew that they were somehow related. But she swallowed the thought.

Newt studied her face, running his tongue quickly over his bottom lip. He relaxed, settling back down on the floor.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He gave Charly a reassuring grin, the sparkle appearing back in his eye. "Don't make me regret that, though."

He got to his feet. Charly flashed him a warning glare, but he paused. "Don't worry, greenie, I'm just going to check on Gally." He handed her back the note as if to convince her further.

"Can I come?" she asked pleadingly, but at Newt's expression she knew the answer didn't look too promising.

"Alby doesn't like people visiting when they have gladers goin' through the Changing," he noted solemnly.

"Mhmm, so you're just special then, aren't you?" she smirked.

"Bloody right I am," he chuckled before striding out the door.

Charly sighed and clasped her hands behind her back, wandering about the room. Papers were strewn about the desk and dust had settled on almost every piece of furniture like a light blanket of snow. She wrinkled her nose. Nearly everything in the entire room was unkempt aside from the small bed in the corner. The quilt was tucked neatly around the wooden frame, and the lone pillow sat, well-fluffed, atop the quilt. On top of the bed sat a book.

A book? But Newt had said there weren't any books in the entire glade! She walked closer to investigate, and saw something propped between the hard leather cover and the first page.

The white tulip, which had now opened its petals into a beautiful blossom.

Charly beamed as she hesitantly picked up the leather-bound novel. She removed the flower and cracked open the spine, reading the title page: 1984, George Orwell. The name held no familiarity, not that she assumed it would, but Charly smiled nonetheless as she hugged the book to her chest.

"So you found it, eh?" Newt called from behind her. She spun around, still beaming, just in time to see him walk through the door.

"But how did you…?" she was at a loss for words.

"We send in requests down with the box sometimes, 'ya know, for running shoes and such. Sometimes the slintheads give us other things too, if we ask, and when you said you like books, I thought I'd send down a request just in case, 'ya know, so they-"

Newt's ramblings were cut off as Charly ran forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He was taken aback at first, but seconds later his strong arms had coiled around her as well. And there they stood, swaying back and forth, just holding each other. Charly didn't know what it was about the gesture, whether it was the fact that Newt had remembered, the effort he went through, or maybe just the compassion of the act, but it set her heart overwhelmingly aflutter.

"Thank you," she breathed into him.

"You like it?" She could hear the smile behind his coy words. She pulled away from the boy just enough to look up at him.

"It's perfect."

And it was.

And this moment was.

Newt breathed out in what seemed to be a sigh of relief, smile widening. Charly had never noticed just how warm and inviting his eyes were, shining with a rich auburn luster. Just how clearly the crinkles by his eyes were etched as he smiled. How the stubble across his chiseled jaw was sparse and pale. How his lips, though thin, were intensely pigmented. But he wasn't smiling anymore, and neither was she.

As Charly studied him her smile had gradually faded, for now they gazed at each other, eyes wide. Newt's eyes darted down, stealing furtive glances at her lips. A stitch of sadness ran through her nerves and she pursed her lips together.

Because this couldn't happen, and she could see in Newt's eyes that he knew the same.

"Gally's awake!" bellowed Alby, which caused Charly to jump. She laughed nervously before reluctantly dropping her hands to her sides, suddenly feigning a strong interest in the tips of her black boots. Silently, she followed Newt into the next room.

Gally was sitting up in bed and talking quietly with Minho as they walked in. Newt smiled brightly, walking over and clapping Gally on the shoulder.

"Feelin' alright?" Newt asked jovially, giving Gally's hand a good shake.

"M'suppose," Gally mumbled, grinning. He smiled at Charly as she approached, reaching out and pulling her into a warm hug.

"Scared the klunk out of me!" she croaked weakly, to which Gally chuckled.

"Glader slang sounds weird out of your mouth, greenie." The room chuckled and she squeezed him jokingly.

It was when Gally's arm twitched that the atmosphere instantly changed. Charly stiffened as his grip grew uncomfortably tight.

"…Gally?"

Seconds later, his hands were at her throat.

* * *

><p><strong><em>I love a lot of things about this chapter, as we're starting to get to see a few different sides of a lot of people. I have the next two chapters edited and ready to go, and they both should be up within the week. I'm not going to lie; I cried while writing them on several occasions, including during this chapter at the line that reads "because this couldn't happen, and she could see in Newt's eyes that he knew the same." I think that line may be my favorite part, now that I think about it. Be sure to let me know your favorite part or line in a review. <em>**

**_Keep on reading, reviewing, following and favoriting. It really does mean the word to me, and you guys are so wonderful for doing so. It's incredible the amount of attention this story has gotten in the Maze Runner category in just the span of less than a week! Nominate your small bit of Newtly fluff for me to throw in, and be sure to let me know what your favorite part of this chapter was. Any cliffhanger junkies out there? _**

**_As always, stay tuned._**


	6. The Loss

**I think I just have to come out and admit that I am absolute shit at waiting to publish a chapter when I have it sitting in the Doc Manager all ready to go...which explains why this one is now published. I have a feeling that no one here would object quick updates, though! It's still a bit mind-boggling to look at my story and realize that it's one of the most followed recent stories in the Maze Runner category after only being published for a week (We're 1 week old today! Yay!), and for that I can only thank you guys who keep inspiring me to make this story the best it can possibly be. **

_**RMoriluvr; Thank you so much! I read your Maze Runner story not too long ago and fell in love with your writing flow and attention to detail, so to hear that you enjoy it does mean quite a lot. I hope you continue to read! :)**_

_**julesjumper; I feel like Dashner was a fan of cliffhangers too; if I remember correctly, almost every chapter ended with something that made you jump to the next chapter, but his were a bit more kind seeing as the follow up was immediately on the next page :) I'm glad you found the chapter to be well balanced - I feel like that's something that can really turn me off about a story, if it's either too much fluff and not enough actual plot, or too much plot and not enough time to really know the characters! Thanks for the feedback, hope you like this next one as well! Poor Gally indeed.**_

_**Guest; I only recently came across both Thomas and Teresa's real names - unfortunately, I'm not that clever and the name is only a coincidence, but good spotting! And yes, Charly's a bit of a killjoy in the beginning of that moment, but Newt did throw the thing at her, so I don't think she's completely unjustified. She just enjoys giving him a hard time :) Thank you so much for the feedback!**_

_**koichii; Thomas and Teresa will not be making an appearance! The way this is written, the story should flow directly into the Maze Runner with little to no changes, seeing as I've added a few names that do not appear in the books when it comes to the other gladers. It's essentially a prequel for all others who are wondering :) Thank you for reading!**_

_**Zstar1; Who doesn't want a wiggly puppy?! I saw the movie the first day it came out, actually! I think in terms of a stand-alone movie, it was excellent; I think they cast the movie incredibly well, and I really loved the way they shot it artistically. However, as a book-to-movie adaptation? I'm a little more iffy on my review. I think some of the changes they made were unnecessary and changed a lot of plot points that I really enjoyed as well as some character motives, but I understand that it was never going to be exactly like the book. Overall, I would see it again, and of course will be seeing TST when it comes out :) But yes, attractive boys galore, no doubt about that. Please don't die, the update is here! Hope you enjoy it :)**_

_**Sraxell; Thank you so much, as a writer that's such a lovely thing to hear. But I completely understand your wariness when it comes to longer fanfictions, but no worries with me! I'm writing this from an outline, which is around 7,000 words or so in itself, which also should explain the quick updates to everyone who is wondering - I had written the first three chapters before even making an account on this site! And thank you so much for the critical feedback. Charly is a flawed person just as everyone else in the fictional and non-fictional world is, but when she's your protagonist, it's sometimes hard to let her flaws show without turning off the readers, so I appreciate your kind words. As for the pace, I was worrying about whether it was too quick or not. It's hard because the events are supposed to happen in quick succession of each other, but I always fear that it will overwhelm the readers or become to unbelievable. I'll try to break it up a bit :) Thanks for the great review, and I hope you like this update as well!**_

_**SomethingLikeMe; I know, the poor guy unfortunately had it coming and of course I couldn't leave it out. I hope you still see him as a great character and not a complete asshole ;) Thank you so much for reading!**_

_**Niclo121212; Yes, Gally as we knew him will soon be back. I'm glad you started to like him! That really was my goal, to get people to empathize with the guy because so many people wrote him off for his attitude in the book - I just wanted to show how he might have been this great guy before he had to go through hell and back with the changing. Thanks for another kind review! :)**_

**And now we continue that damn cliffhanger...**

* * *

><p><em>They're never the bloody same after that. <em>

The room erupted. Minho leaped forward and grabbed Gally by the shoulders, pulling him back, but with Gally's hands still fastened around her throat Charly lunged forward. She stood petrified, trying to scream but instead gasping for air and clawing at Gally's hands. His eyes were glossed over and unseeing as Newt's words flashed again through her mind.

Alby flew forward to pry Gally's hands from Charly's throat while someone threw an arm around her waist. Her hands tried to remove his grip but she was already losing her senses, her hands unable to grip. Why was she seeing two Gally's? Why were voices around her echoing?

She fell backwards onto Newt as Alby finally managed to pull Gally away. He screamed, fighting the boys as they strapped him back down to the bed, where he fell back into convulsions. Charly shook in Newt's grip as his hand gently stroked her hair, but everyone was speechless, panting.

"We thought…he was done…with the changing…" Minho said between breaths, leaning up against the wall.

"That's never happened before," Alby said to no one in particular, staring at the ground.

Charly had an unnerving feeling that the reasoning behind Gally's snap wasn't random, but some cruel, calculated endeavor.

And she triggered it.

* * *

><p>"I'm <em>fine<em>," Charly hissed for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

They were situated in Newt's bedroom; Charly, Alby, Minho, and Newt, scattered about the bed and floor. In the span of ten minutes, Charly had been asked if she was okay on approximately seventeen different occasions. Which, in all fairness was incredibly kind, but she was starting to feel like she was been taken care of as opposed to cared for - two very different feelings as well as her pet peeve. She could take care of herself, and they needed to know that.

"No one goes in there until tomorrow," Alby demanded. "We make him recall everything he remembers from the changing before he goes anywhere, we need to make sure it's over and done with. Can't have another incident like this." There were nods and mutters of agreement.

Charly fell back onto the bed, exhausted. She didn't want to think abut this anymore, she didn't want to think about anything. She spotted the book on the floor beside the bed and leaned to pick it up as Minho and Alby trickled out of the room. She grabbed the book by the cover, hoisting it up as she lay back down against the thin mattress, and holding the book straight above her.

_It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen._

She began to read as her mind began to wander, but found herself needing to read over each line again. Nothing stuck. Exasperatedly, she dropped the book to her stomach, resorting to staring at the ceiling; a much less satisfying activity. Newt dropped to the bed beside her, kicking his feet up and resting his head beside hers.

"I can't even mentally escape right now," she sighed, patting the book's worn cover. Newt nodded, his mind evidently elsewhere as well. It was a few minutes before he spoke.

"Do you think he attacked you for a reason? Something to do with that note?"

Charly wrapped her arms around her body tightly and shuddered.

"Whoever they are," she started quietly, "I don't think they want me here." Her shallow breaths were shaky as she thought back to the note, the dream, Gally's hands closing around her neck, strangling her.

"You okay?" Newt asked softly, turning his head to the side as his hair flopped over the pillow.

Charly wanted to say yes with ever fiber of her being. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, a failed attempt at clearing her mind. Before she could help it, weakly, the word fell from her lips.

"No."

Almost immediately, she felt his hand edge over to hers, and a warmth rushed up her body. Nimbly, their fingers laced together and she squeezed his hand. Reassuringly, he returned the gesture, before turning on his side and pulling her close. Back pressed to his chest and legs tangled in a mess of limbs, she smiled to herself.

"However…now I'm slightly better." Newt laughed, and she could almost hear that cocky smirk she came to love so much.

"Only slightly?"

"Only slightly."

"You're hard to please."

"I don't know, I'm pretty pleased right now."

He paused. "More than slightly?"

Charly laughed into the pillow.

"Yes, Newt. More than slightly."

"Good that," he mumbled into her ear with a satisfied grin, his warm breath tickling her skin. She sank deeper into his embrace.

"Get to bed, the lot of you!" Minho's voice sounded from outside. Far away laughter erupted, but grew quieter and quieter as the gladers headed towards the clearing. Charly's eyes shot open, knowing she should go but wanting to stay more than she could remember wanting anything else.

"Should I-" Charly started, but before she could finish her sentence Newt's words were in her ear again.

"Stay?"

She hardly even had to think.

"Always."

He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her temple, and at that moment, little else mattered.

* * *

><p>The intruding sunrise burst through the bedroom window. Charly's eyes squeezed tighter as she groaned, angry as if the light had rudely woke her from a fantastic dream. Newt's hand was still interlocked with her own, and she smiled before slowly trying to release the grasp.<p>

"No," Newt mumbled through a smile, voice low and raspy. Charly rolled her eyes and slapped his bare stomach lightly, to which Newt clutched his stomach dramatically.

"Ow!" he laughed, feigning a hurt expression, but Charly scoffed jokingly and threw her legs over the side of the bed, tying up her boots.

"Wimp," she muttered playfully under her breath. Suddenly Newt's breath was against the back of her neck, hands pulling her hair aside.

"Heard that," he growled with a smirk, giving her neck a quick nip before sliding off the bed.

"I'm going to check on Gally," he called over his shoulder, darting through the door.

Charly's stomach flipped. She had nearly forgotten about last night, about Gally's horrifying episode. She fumbled for a few more moments with her long black laces before nearly running into the next room.

Gally again was sitting upright and suddenly Charly was overwhelmed with a sickening sense of deja vu. But something was different about him. His normally jovial expression was replaced with a cold, almost absent glare as Minho questioned him.

"Remember anything else?"

"Nope," Gally replied curtly, staring down at his folded hands. His voice was blunt. Emotionless. "Just…desolation, everywhere. Everything was burned, disease ridden…the creators, they're watching us. I saw them, I remember their faces, they made the maze. They planned on putting us in here one by one for a long time. Other than that, it's hard to piece together…" He looked pained as he racked his brain for more information before sighing and getting up, eyes making eye contact with Charly and Newt who had been standing in the doorframe.

Newt walked towards him, hand outstretched. Gally said nothing but forced a grin, taking Newt's hand firmly and nodding. Charly followed him forward, trying her best to smile brightly, but was stopped in her tracks. Just as he had shaken Newt's hand, he held his out to Charly. She only let her smile falter for a second but then pursed her lips together into a grin; a makeshift guise for her internal heartache. Gally shook her hand.

"Charly," he nodded in acknowledgment.

"So you do remember us?" she said without thinking, to which Gally furrowed his brows.

"'Course I do." His tone was matter-of-fact.

"'Course you do," Charly repeated softly, her hand swinging back to her side.

"Good that," Alby said wearily. It looked to Charly like he had been up all night supervising Gally. "Back to the creator information. Charly." He nodded towards the door.

"Oh come on," she said indignantly as soon as she caught on. Apparently, she wasn't of high enough importance to listen in.

"Unless 'ya have anything else to add?" Newt spoke up, his eyes boring intensely into her. She knew what he wanted her to do, to tell the rest of the group about the note. But she couldn't, at least not yet. It wouldn't do any good to throw out even more disconnected information, and for what? To brand her as an outsider, or some sort of spy? Without a reply, she stormed out of the room.

It was lunchtime before she saw Minho run off into the maze, signaling that their interrogation with Gally was over. It appeared as though nothing had come from Gally's memories. He emerged from Homestead and stalked over to the rest of the builders while Newt and Alby trailed behind, talking in hushed tones. Charly turned her head back towards the rest of the med-jacks as they sat in a circle catching up. Stephen and Clint were immersed in some sort of long and, more likely than not, frivolous debate while Jeff laid back with his forearm shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Guess it didn't go anywhere then, or they would've been in there for longer," Stephen said as if following Charly's thoughts. He and Clint were following Gally with their eyes as he got to the builders, his arms gesturing in an annoyed fashion he bellowed what seemed to be instructions. "You should have seen the first shank that lived through a griever sting, they didn't let him leave the place for hours after he woke up."

The sun beat down on them as the hours passed slowly. The runners began to trickle in just as the sun touched down on the maze walls, sweat beading up on their foreheads as they ran into the map room. But something didn't sit right with Charly.

"Clint, how many runners are there?"

"We got eight, greenie."

"Then why are there only seven back?"

The group looked up in unison, Jeff sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"…you sure?"

"Positive," said Charly. The runners were gathered outside the map room, and she quickly counted them again in her head, hoping she had made a mistake. But no, there were only seven, and they looked equally as distressed.

"Shucking hell," sighed Clint as he got to his feet, examining the group of runners. "It's Finn. He was the greenie before you got here."

Slowly, the runners began to trickle over to the doors, Charly and the rest of the med-jacks following without hesitation. The only times Charly had ever been this close to the doors had been in the midst of chaotic panic. But this time, as she slowly approached the towering walls, she felt a pit grow in her stomach. There was something inherently intimidating about them, about how the closer she got, the harder it was to make out where exactly they ended. She craned her head towards the sky, believing for a split second that they didn't.

More gladers had arrived at the maze doors, all interested to see what the commotion was about. But there was a wary atmosphere, like they had already known the bad news before they were told.

"Who's going in after him?" Charly asked loudly, hoping someone, anyone would answer her. Half of the sun had already disappeared behind the walls.

"No one," Alby stated firmly. "No one goes in the maze to collect people anymore, new rule we decided after the last incident, it's not worth losing more than we need to." He nodded towards Stan, who stood with them a few paces back. Charly turned to him with a vehement glare.

"Collect them?" she repeated incredulously, her voice raising a few pitches in anger. "They're people, not ticket stubs. It's a _life _which, if you hadn't already noticed, isn't exactly something we have an abundance of here. You need to save him."

But Alby didn't reply. He looked into the maze, eyes narrowed, arms folded like a statue. Charly's eyes flicked desperately to Minho, whose stance mimicked Alby's but his expression was one of concern. He bit down on his lip like he already knew the outcome of events that had yet to transcend.

"Listen, I get that there has to be order, but…" Charly trailed off, her voice desperate and dripping with panic as her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone to step up. To do something, anything. But the rest of the gladers stood there silently, peering into the maze with a mixture of hope and fear in their eyes.

"Charly." Newt was behind her, his low voice cautionary. But Charly refused to look at him, her eyes locked instead on a shadow dancing at the far end of the wall in the dimming light.

"Oh my god…oh my god!" she exclaimed, pointing and looking around to the others. Muted voices began to whisper to each other, but no one moved. Alby's face remained stagnant. She turned to Newt, whose eyes were already staring her down. His jaw was clenched and his expression steely, but his eyes were brimming with what looked like fear.

A strangled cry echoed through the towering corridor, making Charly wince. Almost instinctually, Newt grabbed hold of her wrist and clenched it tightly. She saw Finn's arms first as he reached to the ground, pulling himself across the gravel covered cement. He was barely distinguishable in her vision, still so far away. There was no way he was going to make it. Charly widened her eyes. This was really happening. They were going to stand here and watch this boy die.

"Don't you dare," Newt muttered through his clenched jaw. Charly's breathing came harder as she looked at him, livid. She made her own decisions, and not even Newt would tell her differently.

So she ran.

* * *

><p><strong>Another cliffhanger?! I'm the worst, I know. But I love an ending sentence that keeps me coming back for more. Luckily, the next update should come Sunday so you all can't be too mad! This chapter felt a little less eventful, aside from the ending, than the previous ones, but if felt like a good time to end it. It isn't all action 247 in the glade, but it could be very soon - your hearts might prefer it to be a little less eventful when the time comes. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts/criticism/input in the reviews - reading them makes me smile so much and I always gush about you all to my best friend. I'm essentially a really proud mom. Do any of you guys write? If so, let me know so I can check your stuff out too! And if you do, let me know what you listen to as you write, or if you prefer the silence to anything else :)**

**Until Sunday, my loves.**


	7. The Grasp

_**Good morning, loves. I hope you all are having a wonderful Sunday, my favorite day of the week - as promised, here is the update! Speaking of favorites, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. Scratch that, this is 100% my favorite chapter of the book, and the end bit is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Needless to say, I'm very, very excited/nervous to hear what you all think about it. This chapter really allowed me to dive into the characters, so you'll see a little bit more from them emotionally here, which has been one of my favorite parts about writing this story.**_

**The Ink Spiller; Thank you so, so much for your splendid words. I'm glad someone likes that pairing, as I'm also a fan. Maybe not so much romantically, but you can't deny that they play off of each other very well. I'm also very flattered with the Rick Riordan assessment. Hopefully you continue to read and enjoy :)**

**buckybearbuchanan; Thank you so much for the lovely compliment, I hope you enjoy this update as well and find it equally as enthralling :)**

**browiess27; And here it is! Hope you like it :)**

**Descending; Let me just start by saying I was so excited about your review that I snapchatted pictures of it to my friends. That being said, I always appreciate and welcome questions! I'm going to leave your actual questions written in so if anyone else had similar ones, they could look to these also :)**

**1. Why do almost all Maze Runner fan fictions when talking about lowering someone into the box mention someone getting sliced in half? Did I miss something in the books?**

**It was something that was mentioned in the book, but we didn't get to actually witness the event. The gladers had constructed a kind of memorial to the deceased boy, from what I can remember, as a sort of warning to those who were contemplating escaping through the box hole.**

**2. Was there any significance with the book that was sent up? Like does it mean something? Symbolize something?**

**1984 has always been one of my favorite books, and I thought it would be cool if I could find a way to include it! However, there is some symbolism behind it. The two words share some similar dystopian themes, which is ironic because Charly initially wanted the book as a kind of mental escape. However, it parallels the reality of the world that exists outside of the maze trials, and so quite honestly, she wouldn't be escaping at all. How cruel are the creators?**

**3. Has Charly or will Charly carve her name into the wall? I'm basically asking did I miss this in the chapters? Or are you just not going to include it because it doesn't seem that important?**

**I'm trying base the accuracy of TOGT on what I remember from the book and, please correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the wall where the name carving takes place only exists in the movie!**

**4. Is Charly wearing boys clothing? Or did they send some stuff up?**

**Charly is wearing girls' clothing - black leggings, olive green jumper, black boots. As for why, I cannot disclose that information just yet :)**

**5. Did Charly ever look at Newts wound again? Or did she totally forget?**

**Newt's wound has been on the back burner with all of the events that have happened recently, but it won't be forgotten!**

**6. Does Gally remember trying to kill Charly?**

**No he does not! That little period was just a lapse in the changing, which I like to think the gladers wouldn't remember too much of. It wasn't a conscious action.**

**7. Last but not least, what do you listen to when you write? Or did you already say?**

**I always listen to soundtrack music while I write, everything from Love Actually to Game of Thrones, Series of Unfortunate Events to Lost. It's my favorite! If you all want, I can leave the specific pieces I listen to at the ends of the chapters, it would be pretty awesome to read the stories to them. Honestly, music adds such an emotional backing to a piece of writing that you can't convey with words.**

**Lastly, I would love to read something you've written! PM me some of the books you've written from and I'll reply with what I'm interested in; I can't wait :) Thank you so, SO much for this lovely review, and I hope that you enjoy the rest of TOGT :)**

**Zstar1; Nothing would make me happier than sharing an internet puppy with you. But yes, she is a bit like Thomas with her stubbornness, isn't she? Although normally I think she is much more internalized with her feelings and actions than he is. I never read the Percy Jackson series nor saw the books, but I heard how upset fans of the book were with the movie. I can only imagine the horror. But at least you got to look at Logan Lerman's face for 120 minutes, right? Hope you enjoy this next chapter, thanks for reviewing :)**

**yiannieee; That's awesome, thank you so much! That's how I get when I read something I'm hooked on too, I have to do it all in one go if it's out there :) Thank you so much, hope you enjoy this one :)**

**Sam0728; And you will be able to find out a couple lines down :) Hope you enjoy the update!**

**yiannieee; Ahh thank you so much! Hope you enjoy as you keep reading :)**

**julesjumper; Thank you in both regards, hope this chapter is one you enjoy as well :)**

**ToWriteForLove; I like them as well! I feel like it provides writers with a little more leeway as well, seeing as they don't have to abide by Thomas' storyline. Newtly loves you too, as do I, and I hope you keep reading :)**

**DoveLuxe; Thank you so much, update is here! :)**

**DancerOfDanger; Impulsive and stubborn Charly does as impulsive and stubborn Charly wants when it comes to taking care of people and seeing that they're okay - an admirable trait most of the time, but not always the most practical or logical. I really liked the dynamic of her and Gally, and I definitely think it's important to capture all the relationships present as opposed to just the one between the two love interests. It means a lot, so I thank you! :)**

_**And now we continue with the cliffhanger...**_

* * *

><p>Shouts and bellows were drowned out as adrenaline flooded through her body, the thud of her footsteps on the grass shifting to boots pounding against pavement. All she could focus on was the figure at the end of of the stretch of corridor, now dragging himself across the ground. She closer she got, the better she could see his horribly disfigured knee.<p>

Charly was ten feet away from the boy before she felt a fist grab hold of her shirt and yank her backwards, knocking her to the ground.

"No!" she shrieked, her voice breaking as she whipped her head around. There Newt stood, both fists clamped around her arm, dragging her back towards the doors. Fully enraged, his eyes were filled with such animosity that she was surprised he didn't lash out at her right then and there. Charly kicked, clawing at the ground with her one free hand in a futile effort to reach the boy, who now had given up on screaming. His eyes were almost vacant as his last hope of survival was dragged slowly away.

Charly thrashed against Newt's grip, fighting her way up to her feet only to be grabbed roughly around the waist and thrown over his shoulder. It was over. She stopped resisting, Finn at the end of the corridor becoming smaller and smaller with every step.

She could feel the ground tremble as the doors began to close, but within seconds she and Newt had collapsed onto the patchy grass of the Glade. Charly didn't dare turn around. She couldn't bear to watch Finn anymore. She stared at the ground, panting as the doors slid thunderously together, leaving the Glade in a sickening silence that seemed to last hours. No one moved.

"We could have saved him," Charly spoke softly, her voice distant and empty. Newt got to his feet and she slowly raised her head, glaring at him with…well, she didn't know what. Mistrust, a vile fury, horror, or some combination of the three.

"We could have saved him! He was right there!" she screamed, voice breaking, but Newt just stared back at her. The gladers had all averted their eyes, some staring at the ground while some shutting them tightly. Though she addressed the group, Charly's eyes were focused on the blonde boy before her, and if looks could kill, he would've had a dagger lodged in his chest. Or seven. Her eyes bore into Newt's, whose remained stone cold.

"We did what we could," spat Newt, his eyes cold and still venomously angry. His words were forced through gritted teeth, clearly attempting to mask the extent of his fury. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alby take half a step forward, arms tensed and fists clenched by his sides.

"No you didn't," Charly said, her voice now dangerously low. "You stood there and watched him die." She stood, turning to look at the gladers who still refused to look her in the eye, her voice rising once again, desperately searching for some sort of reaction that showed they still possessed an ounce of compassion. "You let this happen, all of you!"

"No, we were being smart!" Newt had began to shout, matching Charly's tone. "What the hell were you thinking, greenie? What if a shuck griever was around the corner? You don't know what the hell is in there."

"But he was-"

"You don't know what the hell is in there!" Newt yelled, some of the gladers wincing as he advanced towards Charly. It was fear that now flickered behind his eyes, deeply-rooted and almost concerned.

"It's not worth getting yourself killed," he finished firmly. Charly didn't let herself falter.

"But there wasn't a griever there, was there?! It was just Finn. Finn, who was part of this family, your own brother."

"You don't understand. It's never safe in there, not during the day, not during the night. You broke a rule."

"To save a life! Why is that fact so hard to get past?!"

"Because even though you ran off into there for Finn, you left all of us back here. We would have lost two people, not just one. Your recklessness and inflated ego wouldn't have only cost you your own life, it would have cost us part of ours as well." His words stung.

Newt paused, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"You. Never set another foot in that maze again, do you hear me?"

"Don't tell me what to do," Charly seethed. Newt stepped closer to her, his voice now a venomous whisper.

"Do you know what you did to me when you tore off into that bloody thing?" His eyes lowered into hers as he bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. "How was I supposed to let you go?"

His voice broke as he spoke the last words, sadness creeping into his sparkling eyes. Charly felt as though her heart had been ripped straight from her chest, leaving a gaping cavern of emptiness deep within her. She clenched her jaw as tears began to well up in her eyes, forcing herself to not break her stare.

"I can't be a concern to you. Not here, not now. You know that. It can't happen." She spoke slowly, each word like a sword to her gut, digging deep into her. Newt's resulting expression was the thing that pushed it to the hilt.

"I can't bear..you in there, I can't…" But he fumbled with the words, knitting his brows together in distress. He pursed his lips together, searching for something within his mind, only to turn swiftly on his heel and stalked off, pushing surrounding gladers aside.

Alby yelled into the silence, dismissing the group with curt orders. She could see him walking towards her slowly, but didn't care to look up.

"It's the slammer for you tonight. No gathering needed."

* * *

><p>Charly did not protest as Gally walked over and took her roughly by the wrists, directing her over to the slammer. She had seen it only a few times before; a tiny hut sunken into the ground, surrounded by concrete walls aside from one face, which spouted iron bars that stretched up to the thatched roof. Charly wanted to mouth off, to try and declare just how unfair this situation was, but she couldn't. She had nothing left to say and no desire to speak out, nor did she think she could get mad at Gally. Not after everything he'd been through.<p>

She rethought her decision, however, as he wordlessly opened the gate and gestured for her to get in, unceremoniously slamming the metal behind her. Charly looked up at him wide-eyed, but he simply fastened the padlock wearing the same emotionally vacant expression.

"Gally.." she started, looking up to him, concerned.

"When you're here, you listen to Alby," he stated, shoving the keys back into his pocket. "I'll be back in the morning. Night, greenie." It was the moment that he walked away without a second glance that Charly truly felt abandoned. She backed into the rock surrounding her cell, sliding down the jagged surface until she came to rest on the floor or cool, damp earth.

The sky had quickly darkened into the starless night sky. The lamps surrounding the Homestead, while normally exuding warmth and comfort, now cast a strange and unfamiliar glow. The shadows of the cell bars stripped across her face and danced unsettlingly along the back wall. If being trapped in the Glade was not limiting enough, being trapped within the Glade was suffocating. She thought back to the animals in their enclosure.

Trapped. Trapped in her cell, trapped in the glade, trapped in this still unfamiliar body surrounded by unfamiliar people and faced with unfamiliar obstacles. She yearned for something she knew…anything. The worn leather cover of 1984 flashed across her memory and brought tears to her eyes. She didn't stifle them, leaving clean tracks across her face matted with dirt. It was only when she heard muffled footsteps approaching that she hastily wiped them away.

It was Minho. His face, although she expected it to match that of Alby's and Newt's, was friendly as it lit up in the dim glow of the lone hanging lantern. She made a half-hearted attempt to return the grin before pulling her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly and bringing her chin to rest on her forearms. Minho leaned up casually against the bars of the cell.

"I appreciate what you did back there, in the maze," he said after a few moments of silence, and Charly looked up at him, stunned. "I know there are rules and all, we need them, but…I know how it feels." He slumped to the ground, the glow illuminating his face flickering as the flame burned.

"I'm their keeper. I know what it's like more than anyone to lose people. Shuck, I spend all day with those bloody shanks, they're like my brothers. And we've lost four." His gaze fell to the ground. "It doesn't get easier. If anything, gets harder. And in the real world, maybe things could be different. But this isn't the real world. This is how things have to be."

Charly fiddled with the one remaining sleeve of her jumper as Minho looked up and met her gaze once again. "I'm sorry," she said softly, trying to put as much sincerity in the two words as she possibly could. Minho nodded in thanks.

"I was stupid out there." She shook her head as Newt's words invaded her mind. "It was too risky, he was right, I just...he needed help, I felt like I had to."

"You were brave out there, you know. Buggin' insane, but brave. If you weren't already a shucking good med-jack I'd have made you a runner right then and there, but I think a couple of people would have my head if I did." He smiled and, through her tear-stained cheeks, Charly did as well.

"Well, I can think of one." Her smile was short-lived, grabbing a handful of loose dirt and sifting it through her fingers. She couldn't erase the look in Newt's eyes from her memory; the way they seemed to pierce right through her skin, the way his jaw was clenched and tensed arms trembled with rage, fists balled together. The way she had felt so safe in those arms the night before, those hands stroking her hair and embracing her own.

"He cares about you, you know." Minho's cool voice interrupted her thoughts. "A lot."

"Yeah?" Charly scoffed with a laugh, her tone bitter. "You were there with us about an hour ago, right?"

"You don't understa-"

"Minho, please don't tell me that, I -"

"Charly," he insisted, clutching one of the bars with his fist. "Please, trust me when I say that the guy has been through a lot. It was a point where we weren't sure whether he cared about a shuck thing." He paused.

"Not so sure that's the case anymore."

"Charly smiled, feeling a comforting warmth fill her entire chest. Minho chuckled at her reddening cheeks before getting to his feet with a sigh.

"I know that boy like the back of my hand, trust me on that. Something's up, and we know something's up with you too." Charly sighed and ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

"We're fighting for our lives right here. There's no time for romance."

"Hey, never said what you two had was romantic," he shrugged, walking backwards towards the Homestead. "But I never said it wasn't love. Night, greenie."

"Charly felt a pang in her chest. Not because the statement had caused her pain, but because she had never heard someone sum up her chaotic feelings as well as Minho had just done. The words she had been searching for internally for so long now seemed so clear, so obvious.

Charly only had a handful of knowledge from her past life. She could list off animals, had a competent vocabulary, and figured that if there were a bike near, she would know exactly how to ride it. She knew what she thought love was supposed to be. Love was giggling and kissing and fondue dates and stargazing, parading around with your significant other proudly on your arm. It was intimate moments made blatant and memories painted in perfect brushstrokes. And Charly suddenly knew that was all wrong.

Because Newt had reached into her and torn her open from the inside out and made her more vulnerable than she ever feared she would be. He had got inside her, smacked her awake, tore down her walls and forced her to grow and change and learn. He was the mirror that allowed her to look at herself in a different light, who by loving her gave her strength and through loving him gave her courage. She was enthralled by the way he crinkled his eyes when he smiled and the way he refused to let her leave the bed this morning. And she knew he was far from perfect, that she was as well, and that together they were perhaps further than they each were respectively. She knew that she couldn't imagine being so wonderfully imperfect with anyone else.

She knew that was what love was. She knew that she loved Newt.

What a horribly inconvenient time to fall so dismally, so despairingly, so absolutely in love.

* * *

><p><strong>That chapter was a bit of an emotional roller coaster. I would be lying if I said I didn't cry once or twice in the process of writing it. I'm not going to say much here; I don't think there's much I could say without taking away from that ending. Look back on Tuesday or Wednesday for the next update.<strong>

**As always, please follow and review - I love hearing how you guys feel about TOGT as the storyline progresses. Love you all.**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Two Swords, Ramin Djawadi ( watch?v=AViJIXo5Kbg)**

**Moving On, Varèse Sarabande ( watch?v=J5wOHIi7xCU)**

***My reviewer "Descending" had some amazing questions that they wanted answered in their last review, and I have left them up there in the review section if you skimmed over that. They were pretty great, so if you have questions of your own or simply want to know more, I would absolutely recommend scrolling up and taking a look!**


	8. The Variable

_**I was floored with your guys' response to the last chapter - I've never had a group of reviews be so eager to hear what comes next, even after the past two cliffhangers! I promise this one's a little better, not only to spare your hearts but mine as well. I think we're at our halfway point or so, which is very exciting. Speaking of exciting, I absolutely forgot to mention the fact that we broke 100 follows after Chapter 6's upload. Like? That's incredible, we're now one of the top stories here on the Maze Runner thread and I've never been more humbled. Let's keep it going!**_

**Newtie; I know, it's just tragic because Charly just wishes things would be different and knows they can't be. Thank you so much for the kind words! Brilliant just happens to be my favorite word, by the way.**

**buckybearbuchanan; Thank you so much! I know, I wish Finn could have been saved too, but there was no way Charly was going to be able to do that - she's not superhuman and not everything goes how she wants it to, so it puts a blatant realistic spin on things. Hope you enjoy this update as well :)**

**thecruelworldwelivein; The update is here, darling! I'm glad you're enjoying it :)**

**yiannieee; Ahhh, thank you! I know, I'm glad I found an appropriate time to write a bit for Minho, he's a cool dude.**

**EllaOfFrell; No more worries, the follow up is here! I'm so happy you're liking it, and here's to hoping you like this chapter just as much :)**

**Guest; Wow, thank you for all of your lovely compliments! Unfortunately Thomas and Teresa will not be coming into the story, as this is a prequel that should flow smoothly into the actual Maze Runner novel and doesn't alter what already existed. And hmm...so I'm taking it their fight outside the maze didn't settle too well with you? You'll enjoy this chapter then :) Fabulous line choice, by the way.**

**koichii; Seems like we've got a lot of Minho fans reading :) Thank you for doing so!**

**Niclo121212; I laughed at your review. Out loud. I'm hoping this chapter can give you back the ability to "can", as well as your feels :) I just saw your fic up on the Maze Runner main page, by the way - I'll be sure to go check it out!**

**aprilthirteen; Now! Now is when I'll update next! But thank you, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**Bella; Oh, I would never do that. The story must keep going! Here you are, love, thanks for reading :)**

**DancerOfDanger; Yes she did! It's hard to knock some sense into that girl sometimes, she's relatively tough to get through. But yes, that running into the maze cliffhanger was something not too many people necessarily enjoyed, but now you now she's in one piece :) As for Newt, I'll leave that for you to decide - I think this update might help with that :)**

**julesjumper; I 100% know what you mean. For Charly, she just has a really strong connection to these boys and their well-being that she can't really understand yet, which does drive her to make some pretty severe decisions. It honestly wasn't the smartest move, I'm more on Newt's side after that, but I do know I wouldn't be able to stand there and watch it at the same time. And yay for all the Minho love this story has been getting after the last update! His sass is killer, but I'm kind of happy we got to see him in a different light. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

_**Alright. Let's do this thing.**_

* * *

><p>A man with greying hair paced back and forth across a stark white room, his long arms folded behind him and rat-like face wrinkled in frustration.<p>

"It's too early for us to go in and alter the trial. We don't know how our presence will affect the patterns, we can't risk it."

"We have access to and control over the hippocampus," another figure piped up, adjusting his white lab coat and leaning back into his desk chair. "We can go in and eliminate the problem, then alter short-term memory just enough so that they lose minimal consciousness of what happened before her arrival. We still have the patterns traced up until then, we'll-"

"No, no," the man asserted, waving a hand in dismissal. "We have no way of being positive in the accuracy of our altercations, it's too risky. We could lose everything we have already collected." He halted, turning to face the small group that sat before him with a sickening smile.

"Our subjects are still becoming aware of who they are, what their role is. Let's see how they react. All of them. We have another mind to study, after all. For now let's treat this as…a variable."

Blackness.

Charly was hurling herself off the medical table.

Blackness.

The note was clutched in her hand as she fell to her knees in front of the box, reaching weakly to pull open the doors.

Blackness.

She had lunched forward, falling against the cool metal as the alarm blared incessantly.

Blackness.

* * *

><p>Charly's eyes shot open, although her vision was blurred in exhaustion. She braced herself against her surroundings, feeling her hands up the sides of walls. Her mind immediately thought of the box again. Had she been thrown into there as some kind of sick joke? A jagged rock face, damp dirt floor. Her breathing slowed as soon as she realized she was still in the cell. Yesterday's events flooded into her mind.<p>

She peered out of the bars of the cell, the sky still pitch black. Charly's eyes stung as she rubbed them vigorously; it had to be some ungodly hour of the morning as the animals were silent. All she could hear was the slight breeze that rustled through the trees of the Deadheads.

And, mulling softly across the grass, footsteps.

Charly scrambled to the bars, clutching them and peering around as her heart raced. Eyes straining, she saw a figure approaching her, lengthy hair stuck up in every direction. She released the bars and relaxed, sitting back down with an uneasy look upon her face. Although she could not yet see the boy's face, she knew that hair all too well.

Newt cautiously approached the cell, his face illuminated with the warm glow of the single lantern that slowly swayed back and forth from the ceiling. Charly was silent. His ornery words from earlier echoed in her mind, each shout like a piercing dagger. But Newt looked nothing like he did at the maze doors.

He looked utterly disheveled. With sizable bags under his irritated eyes, he looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he stared down at the grass, exhaling deeply. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto the ground, eyes still avoiding her gaze. Charly found herself wondering if he felt just as uneasy as she did.

"I can't sleep," he finally said, looking up to her. "I just…I need to talk to you." Charly kept her steely gaze as she looked at the boy, but then thought back to Minho.

_He cares about you, you know._

Charly felt her heart swell and bit her bottom lip gently in thought.

"I can't sleep either," were the only words Charly managed to say, although so much more was running through her head.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out the words desperately, quietly. "I shouldn't have said any of that, 'specially in front of every shank here. I was just…"

"Trying to protect everyone?" Charly sighed, pulling a blade of grass from the dirt.

"Trying to protect you." Charly's fingers froze as her expression softened. Maybe Minho was right. She gazed back up to him, his eyes locked on her own, studying her for a reaction. Her throat was dry, and no words came to express her feelings.

"Listen, I'm not regretting going back into the maze to get you for one second. I just can't sleep when I know you're sitting out here mad at me." Newt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and closing his eyes. "There are a lot of reasons I can't stand you going in there."

"But what if it could save us? Would you let me go in then?" Charly's voice was hardly a whisper.

Newt paused for a few moments, pursing his lips together in thought. Charly could see his hands fidgeting with his laces anxiously, as if he too were struggling with taking his muddled thoughts and forming them into something coherent.

"My last day of keeper training, I worked with the runners," Newt began. Was his voice…trembling? It was as if he were falling to pieces right before her. The self-assured, snarky boy who greeted her when she woke up in bed on her first day had disappeared completely.

"They said I would be bloody brilliant, and who was I to complain?" He gave an exasperated chuckle, but there was no sparkle in his eyes to match the suddenly foreign sound. "And I was a runner for a couple weeks. Ran that shuck maze 'til I memorized it completely every day. Never made a mistake. Never got lost. But that was just the thing…"

His face was sunken now, eyes staring off into what could only be some tragic nostalgia.

"I did everything right," he muttered quietly, "yet there was never an answer. Never any clues, nothin'. Just the same walls, keeping us in here, and I stared them down every single day…the maze, it changes you, does things things to you that you can't even imagine."

Charly clung to his every word, as if his voice were her lifeline. She had never seen him so distraught, so completely and utterly not himself. She was scared, but edged closer to the bars behind which he sat. He fumbled, his mouth trying to articulate his next sentence but failing, and Newt let out an exasperated, shaky sigh.

"I threw myself off the wall," he said through gritted teeth, averting his eyes. Charly's breath caught in her throat. An icy chill sent her hair on end and numbed her senses fully, her face wrinkling in empathy. "Tried to end it right then and there, I couldn't do it anymore, I just…we couldn't do anything, we weren't getting anywhere, and I thought…"

He pulled up his left pant leg to reveal a tattered bandage wrapped around his knee and stretching down to his shin, spotted with faint bloodstains. Charly felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes as she pictured his limp in her mind, the flash of sadness that appeared in his eyes when she had asked him about his leg what now seemed so long ago. She reached through the bars, taking his hand in hers and letting the pant leg fall back down. She squeezed it tightly as she shut her stinging eyes, willing the imagery now filling her head to dissipate.

"To think," he said slowly, "of you going in there and experience that? Now you know why I can't bear it." With the last word, he squeezed her hand tightly back and finally caught Charly's gaze. It was different, the way he looked at her, though she couldn't put a finger on why. It was the kind of look that made her wonder if anyone had truly seen her before this moment.

"Newt, I-I," she stammered breathlessly, knowing she couldn't sit there in silence but not having a clue what to say. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." She traced her fingers lightly across his rough hands, hoping that with that gesture she could somehow comfort him. Charly wished she could go back in time; stop him, save him, but the scene played out like a video in her mind. It was so clear, so vivid. She bowed her head as a tear rolled down her cheek, hating the idea of him seeing her cry once again. The felt like she had spent more time crying than not throughout the past couple of nights. Using her shoulder, she wiped away the tear before meeting his eyes once again.

"I have to though…don't you understand? Ever since I came up in the box I knew I was here for a reason…something different." Her unsteady fingers moved towards her breast pocket from which she drew out the crumbled note, clutching it in her hand. "I can't abandon this. It could be the key to getting us out. It has to be me…I don't know what I have to do, but it has to be me."

"Let me help you," Newt stammered quickly. "Remember what I said? This is a community, we help each other out. We're here for you." His voice lowered, brows furrowing.

"I'm here for you."

"Would you rather risk one person to save everyone, or risk everyone with no guarantee of survival, Newt?" The more she spoke, the more her own words started to feel like self-inflicted wounds. But this was no time for her heart to win over her mind.

"You're right," he sighed, to which Charly's eyes widened, confused. The last thing she had expected Newt to do was agree with her.

"I'm selfish…I don't want to lose the one good thing I can remember."

"Newt…"

Suddenly Charly didn't care about the tears rolling silently down or cheeks. Or anything, for that matter. Anything aside from Newt and his tousled hair, rough hands, smooth, low voice and cheeky smiles. She let her forehead rest on the bars in front of her, desperately wanting more than anything to be on the other side. She felt long strands of hair tickle her forehead as Newt did the same, their hands still clasped together.

"If only it weren't for these bars," Charly exhaled, feeling a smile creep onto her lips. Newt's warm breath made goosebumps prick up around her neck as he let out a small chuckle.

"I…should go," he said unwillingly, though he did not move form the bars as he breathed her in. She exhaled slowly, nodding, though her hand was still grasped tightly in Newt's. They waited a few moments before settling upright, Charly's hand reluctantly snaked back through the bars as he stood up, brushing the dry grass from his trousers. Shooting her a brief grin, he disappeared swiftly into the darkness.

Charly fell back onto the dusty floor of the cell holding both hands to her forehead. She smiled. Amidst the torturous dreams of white lab coats and operating rooms and the death of people around her, she smiled, because Newt had confirmed everything Minho had said and everything that she hoped to be true.

But she feared it as well. The more she cared for Newt, the harder it was to make the decisions she needed to; she couldn't have him get in the way. Her smile faltered as she fell to sleep, the man's words from her dream echoing over and over in her head.

_For now let's treat this as…a variable._

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><p><strong><em>Yes! We did it! We made it to the name dropping of the story title! That one sentence really served as a lot of backbone for events that have already been played out and those that have yet to happen as well. I'm sorry if this chapter may have been a little shorter than the previous ones, but I really did feel like it stood for its own and to add on part of what will be the next chapter would have seemed forced and out of place. But the next chapter is much longer, I can tell you that!<em>  
><strong>

**_Please keep reading and reviewing; you've heard it a million times from me already, but I genuinely can't express how thankful I am when you guys do and how happy reading your thoughts makes me! What did you think of the dream? Any new speculations on why Charly is here? She makes some connections in the next chapter, but I want to see who beats her to it. _**

**_Thank you guys so much. I love you all. As always, you'll hear from me in two days time._**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**"The Great Gatsby" Score in 16 Minutes ( watch?v=LHbgtHpQz28)**


	9. The Downpour

_**Hello everyone :) This is going up a day later than I had intended it to, partially because school got a little busier than normal and partially because my campus internet has been out for three days straight, leaving me to hibernate in Barnes and Noble to steal their WIFI for academic purposes. It was a bit of a nightmare. But I'm home for the weekend so hopefully you'll be getting an update by the time I leave on Sunday again! As promised, this chapter is a bit longer than the last few - things are really beginning to snowball now.**_

**Guest; WAIT NO LONGER, more is here. Thanks for reading :)**

**MrsZaynToews19; The Newtly interaction will flow as I see fit - not only has Charly only been there for just about a week now, but they have plenty of other things to worry about in the Glade...like their lives! It doesn't seem like a proper time now, but I won't count it out for the future :) Thank you for reading!**

**Guest; Thank you, darling!**

**buckybearbuchanan; TOGT breaks my heart every time I sit and type it out, I swear to you. But thank you for your lovely words, I can only hope it's the best kind of heartbreak, and I hope you enjoy this update :)**

**Sonny13; How sweet are you?! Thank you, hope you enjoy this chapter as well :)**

**Anto; No need to apologize at all! I agree, Thomas Brodie-Sangster is a brilliant human being, accent and all. Thank you so much for reading all the way from Chile! :)**

**yiannieee; Thank you so much! This review put a huge embarrassing smile on my face, you're too lovely. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**The Ink Spiller; Your reviews are always so thorough and well thought out, I can't tell you how much I appreciate that! As for the bromances, unfortunately Charly just hasn't had much opportunity to interact with the higher up gladers, but she definitely will very soon - hopefully that will fulfill your bromantic needs :) Family interactions will definitely be mirrored int his chapter, though, I can say that much. Again, thank you so much for the review, I hope you keep reading and enjoy this update :)**

_**Shit's about to get real.**_

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><p><strong>The Downpour<strong>

Charly woke the next morning to the jingling of keys as the barred door swung wide open. Blinking into the morning light, she saw Gally holding the door open.

"Mornin', greenie," he said gruffly as she clambered to her feet, pushing her dark hair from her face.

"Morning," she replied sleepily, stepping up out of the cell. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she perused the glade. It was far too late in the morning for people to still be sleeping, yet no one was in sight. She knit her brows together, turning back to Gally.

"Where is everyone?"

Gally pursed his lips together before walking off towards the Deadheads.

"Memorial service this morning for Stan and Finn, c'mon."

Charly felt like sinking back into the cell but followed Gally anyway, walking quickly to keep up with his pace. Charly's eyes raked across the boy; it still seemed so strange, the way he acted. His arms were stiff, fists balled as they swung by his side. His eyebrows were perpetually downcast and lips thin and pressed together. She could only try to imagine what kind of horror took the life from his eyes.

They approached the first line of trees and pushed the branches aside, weaving themselves through the plants as they trudged forward. Charly had not yet been in the Deadheads, through she would be lying if she said she wasn't curious. The air was humid and the vibrantly green leaves dripped with dew. Plants with wide, broad leaves and plants with long, spindly ones, all grouped closely together on the soft earthen floor. They continued to sweep past the plants until the brush cleared and a group of people came into view. All of the gladers had gathered here, all perfectly silent.

Gally walked to the front of the group where Alby, Newt, and the keepers stood facing the rest of the gladers. Charly stood at the edge of the group, shuffling in next to some of the boys. They were surrounding a line of crudely made crosses, each bearing unfamiliar names with dirt loosely strewn about in front of them. She felt a pang in her gut as she realized that they were graves. However, no one carried shovels now, nor were there two empty holes to fill.

Charly's eyes stung as the horrible realization crossed her mind. They had no bodies to bury.

Alby stepped forward, his face which had been emotionless and cold at the time of the boys' deaths was now solemn.

"It's about time we paid tribute to our recently fallen brothers," he began, his voice sounding unnatural in the uncanny silence. "While the maze has taken them from us, they will forever be remembered. They wouldn't want us to give up and be sad for 'em. They would want us to keep fighting." Some of the boys nodded in silent agreement. Charly saw Billy, the young boy she ate breakfast with a few days ago. He trembled, tears in his eyes.

Alby nodded to Newt and Minho who walked forward carrying crosses of a similar aesthetic. They were crooked and rough, with the names poorly carved into the wood. Somehow, they were the loveliest things Charly had ever seen. Newt caught her glance and held it, his eyes troubled, before he and Minho plunged the stakes into the ground. The rip of the wood through the soft dirt made Charly sick to her stomach.

Alby stepped forward again, this time carrying a red flare in his hand. As he held it over his head, the boys grabbed hands left and right, linking the crowd together. Charly looked down and saw that the boy next to her had too extended his arm. She looked up and met Jack's eyes, which were beginning to well up.

She grabbed his hand firmly giving him a slight nod. With that gesture, it was as if their run in on the first day didn't matter. She wasn't just "the girl" in the glade anymore, and neither were any of the boys just "the boys". They were all gladers, all together, sharing their sorrow and heartache and tragedy and despair. It was that moment that Charly decided she would do whatever she needed to do to make sure that they all escaped safely. She shut her eyes tightly to stop tears from falling as Alby struck the flare, it's magnificent red light shining across the clearing.

He set the lit flare against the ground, and for ten minutes they stood silently, watching it burn. Some had their heads bowed, some were weeping silently, but all were still grasping tightly to one another. Newt's voice broke the silence.

"I know it's hard," he said slowly, as though choosing his words very carefully. "Can't remember the last time we lost two shanks so close together. But we gotta stay strong, can't lose faith. Gotta hope. When we get out of here, we do it for them." He gestured to the graves. There were now eight.

"Which is why," Alby continued from behind him, "we'll be having a bonfire tonight. To celebrate them, to celebrate life." There were vigorous nods of approval.

"Good that. Now let's get to work."

Throughout the rest of the day, the smell of barbecue filled the air around the Homestead. She, Clint, Jeff, and Stephen had resorted to playing cards under the shade of the roof, desperately evading the sun at all costs. Gally had the builders bringing large logs and branches from the Deadheads, assembling them into what looked like a teepee. Frypan had sent some of the cooks to bring out tables and wooden benches from the Homestead.

The note in Charly's pocket burned into her stronger than it ever had before. She had been here for nearly a week and had done nothing to actively figure it out. She didn't know where to start, not to mention the spin that these dreams were putting her in. She laid her cards down and fell back onto the grass with a sigh.

The man and his team. WICKED. Some kind of hospital or lab. Variables. She ran the thoughts over and over in her head, trying to make some sense of them. She remembered feeling the coat on the ground, running her fingers over the embroidered letters stamped on the breast pocket. WICKED. The man and his team were wearing them in her most recent dream…were they WICKED?

Don't trust WICKED.

The sentence vividly flashed across her memory

"Clint, what's WICKED?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Dunno," he muttered with a shrug. "Never heard of the shuck thing in my life. It's written on the crates though, you know, the supplies that comes up? Just WICKED, all capital letters stamped in black across the wood. Nothin' else."

Charly's thoughts came crashing down like thundering, flowing water. WICKED was sending them into the maze and supplying them with rations, equipment, everything. WICKED and the creators weren't two separate entities, WICKED were the creators. And she had seen them, walking back and forth discussing variables…and her. They had mentioned her arrival and, the pit in Charly's stomach grew wider, her elimination.

She wasn't supposed to be here. At least, her presence was unwanted by WICKED. So who else could have written the note? Who else wanted her inside the maze?

"You alright there, greenie?" Clint asked, an amused smile on his face. Charly nodded, forcing a grin before sitting upright and taking hold of her cards.

"Just plotting my next move to take your shuck ass down," she smirked, eyeing her cards. Jeff chuckled and they settled back into the game, Charly trying desperately to mask her rapidly beating heart.

* * *

><p>Dusk came and the spirit of the Glade was considerably higher. Charly and the medics were up in the Homestead loft, patching up a slicer who was a little overzealous in butchering cattle for the night's bonfire. It was nothing series; a sizable cut across the palm. Charly wrapped a clean cloth tightly around the boy's hand as Jeff and Stephen disposed of the cleaning materials.<p>

"Thanks," the boy winced as Charly fastened the wrap, giving her a half-hearted smile.

"Sure," she replied with a smile. "Just make sure you don't kill yourself over some steak."

"Ay, c'mon!" exclaimed Stephen form the door, his head cocked to the side impatiently. "We're missing the bonfire!"

The group hurried down the steps and out onto the sprawling grass, which was now aglow with the flickering fire that cast long dancing shadows and filled the air with pops and crackles. Charly's face lit up as she saw the towering branches licked by flames, heard the laughter of the gladers. She definitely needed this right now.

As they strode over, more of the scene came into view. There were throngs of boys gathered around the blazing fire, sitting and chatting, while others threw spears into a target, cheering and jeering. Others were sparring to a sizable crowd, rowdily clapping each other on the back in between thrown punches. The air smelled of cooked food and sweat and burning wood, and Charly couldn't have been happier.

Alby walked over and stuck out his hand which held a mug, filled to the brim with a deep brown liquid.

"'Bout time you all showed up," he said to the group as Charly hesitantly took the mug with two hands. She sniffed the drink, the smell wrinkling her nose.

"What the hell…?"

"Don't ask me," Alby chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "Frypan's concoction, not mine. Taste's just fine, promise."

As he walked off, Charly handed the drink to a passing boy who seemed much more delighted with the gift than she did. Laughing, they walked towards the table of food which was overflowing with cooked meat, steamed vegetables, and freshly baked rolls. Charly bit into a warm roll and chatted away with the rest of the med-jacks, though her eyes scanned the crowd, hoping she would see Newt's tall figure among the rest of the gladers.

Her eyes fell upon Gally. The boy was leaning up against one of the many small huts, sipping a drink slowly as he leered at the rest of the gladers. Curiosity driving her feet onward, she walked over to his side. He didn't look up to notice her.

"If you could try to look a little more miserable, that would be fantastic."

Gally gave Charly an amused chuckle, glancing her way.

"Look at them, they're-"

"What? Having a good time?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Nah, just…immature, that's all," he muttered indignantly, running a hand quickly through his short hair.

"Being a little less of a slinthead wouldn't kill you, you know," Charly suggested lightheartedly, bumping her hip against his. Gally stumbled sideways before catching himself and shooting Charly an irked glare. But his features had softened, like he was trying to hide a smile behind his arrogant and designate guise.

He straightened up and reassumed his stance against the shabby wooden wall.

"Why are you so nice to me?" His words seemed silly for some reason, like a child asking why the grass was green.

"You're a good guy," Charly shrugged. "It's simple, really. You were good to me when I came in the maze. Just because you're a bit of an ass now after you went through hell and back doesn't mean you're going to get rid of me." She offered him a small smile, which, much to her surprise, Gally returned. But, just as if the act was a slip up, he quickly reassumed his cold exterior, mumbling some words of appreciation before sticking out his hand to her.

"Well…thanks," he said as he thrust his hand towards her, but Charly laughed.

"Oh christ, Gally," she sighed, rolling her eyes and pulling him into a hug. Initially his body stiffened, but it only took a few moments for his arms to settle warmly around Charly's body, patting her back. As she let go, the boy gave her a curt nod before walking off into the crowd. Charly chuckled to herself before turning around, her eyes meeting Newt's which were wrinkled in confusion.

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><p>Charly smiled. She didn't know why, couldn't pinpoint any specific reason. But as she looked at him, she just did. But his face remained scrutinizing, as though reevaluating her.<p>

"What are you on about?" she laughed, walking over to Newt.

"Oh, you know," Newt started, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not like he tried to strangle you or anything."

Charly immediately broke into an exaggerated smile, positioning her hand under her chin and batting her eyelashes eagerly.

"Jealous?" she chided with a cheeky tone. Newt had to stifle a laugh with his fist before speaking.

"Bloody hell, don't ever make that face again."

Charly's jaw dropped in faux-shock, slapping his chest with her palm with only proceeded to make Newt laugh more. She shook her head, striding over to a log positioned by the bonfire and sitting down on the grass, resting her back against the rough wood. Newt followed, promptly sitting down close beside her.

Charly felt her skin tingle from where Newt was lightly resting against her forearm and realized that this was the first time they had interacted since he came to visit her in the slammer the night before. She almost felt as if the night didn't happen, that it had been some wondrous figment of her imagination. But when she caught him gazing at her intently out of the corner of her eye, his lips wearing a small smile, she knew she hadn't been imagining anything. Gently, she let her head rest against his shoulder as she stared in to the bursting flames.

They sat in silence like that for a long time, just listening to the laughter and rowdiness that filled the air. Charly's smile faltered. It was so odd to hear so much laughter in a place that had caused them all so much pain. Her mind flickered back to the morning, when they had all stood hand in hand, silently weeping at the loss of Finn and Stan, heart constricting at the thought that maybe she was sent here to stop all of that.

"I can't stop thinking about it." The words fell out of her mouth quietly without restriction.

"The note?" Newt asked, turning to her.

"Yeah," she lied easily. Charly realized she had told him nothing about the dreams, nothing about her connections between the creators and WICKED.

"Well…no, not just that. I've been having dreams, too. Not normal dreams. These seem almost real…about being here, in the glade." She chose her words carefully, keeping the information as vague as possible. She wanted to spill the contents of her entire head right then and there, but she knew it would be best if she didn't.

"I saw the creators…they're WICKED, the people that have been sending things up the box hole, the people that created this entire thing. The ones Gally said are watching us." She pulled the note from her pocket , carefully unfolding it again and stretching it out for him to read.

"Don't trust WICKED…" Newt repeated the sentence under his breath. Their eyes met again, expressions of concern mimicking one another. "Well what does that mean?"

Charly didn't answer, instead dropping her head back onto his shoulder, nuzzling her forehead into the crook of Newt's neck. His hand crept onto her knee, gently giving it a comforting squeeze. The laughter that rang throughout the glade seemed even more unsettling now.

"What if I'm in here for them?"

"You're not, you couldn't be." Newt's voice sounded more wishful than not, like he wanted the sentence to be more true than it was in reality.

Charly sighed, straightening up. "Don't give me this benefit of the doubt crap, Newt…I'm scared that I'm dangerous, that I'm going to hurt all of you."

Newt gripped her shoulders and, turning her towards himself, spoke firmly and calmly. "'You need to stop worrying so much, need 'ta realize that you can't changed anything that's happened. You're a new person right from the moment you step outa the box, and it's horrifying and frightening but it'll give you one thing. A new chance. Who you are right now is comprised of everythin' you've done since you stepped out of the shucking box, nothing before."

"And you need to stop being so damn optimistic. It's sickening."

Newt laughed, cupping her cheek in his hand and briefly pressing his warm lips to her forehead.

"You're far too good to me," she breathed, resting her forehead against Newt's. She felt his hand snake back to her thigh.

"Well did you see that face you pulled earlier? I'm a lucky shank." His hands squeezed around her thigh and Charly squealed, jumping at his touch.

"That's it! You just ruined this!" she laughed in joking disbelief, tossing her hair back. "You ruined the moment, it was such a good one too! You're horrible." Newt burst out in laughter, and Charly's smile couldn't help but turn genuine. It was the truest she had ever heard him laugh since she had known him.

Before she knew it his lips were on hers, one arm pulling her waist closer while the other tangled in her crimson hair. Charly's hands braced against his chest in shock, but it only took a few moments before she melted into him, her hands running up his torso and wrapping tightly around his neck. It was wild and passionate, desperate and undeniably natural. It was through quick kisses and soft lips that they now exchanged the words they never had the courage to voice.

It could have been five seconds or five minutes until they finally broke apart, gasping for air and smiling like embarrassed children when their eyes met. Charly laughed and let her forehead come to rest on Newt's shoulder.

"Still think the moment was ruined?" he asked, and Charly could almost hear the satisfied smirk behind the words.

She shook her head, smiling happily into his collarbone. She felt a water droplet land on the top of her head and looked up at the sky. Sure enough, rain had started to fall, illuminated in the air by the burning fire. There was no more laughter.

Charly felt Newt's body stiffen beneath her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, moving off of Newt as they both stood up. He looked horrified.

"It doesn't rain here."

* * *

><p><strong>It couldn't stay peaceful for long, right?<strong>

**As always, be sure to review and favorite/follow if you haven't already! I appreciate it more than you know. I'm not sure when the next chapter will come, but I'm in the works currently, so hopefully by the end of the weekend :)**

**Love you guys.**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**A Series of Unfortunate Events; The Letter That Never Came ( watch?v=pjF3VNvtW7Q)**

**Game of Thrones; A Lannister Always Pays His Debts ( watch?v=jERdloSRJEw)**

**LOST Love Theme ( watch?v=Ax4Z3o0Hpqg)**


	10. The Decision

**_It may be roughly _ where I am right now, but I've just finished this chapter and could not go to bed without posting it. I can't help it now that things are getting pretty serious - I want to shovel you information as soon as I have it! Let me just start off this Author's Note by just reiterating how humbled I am by your reviews, favorites, and follows. TOGT recently surpassed 11,500 views which just seems absolutely ridiculous to me. I can't believe that so many people have stopped by and even gave the first chapter a look, let alone continued to read. You all are incredible and you mean the world to me, and it's beyond my power to articulate how fantastic this has been as a response to my first ever published work. But enough with the sappiness._**

**JustTally; This made me smile. I'm in love with YOU, dear! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the update :)**

**Guest; I'm so happy my Gally is someone you enjoy reading! And please do not shucking die, I have solidified plans that involved me finishing this story - all planned out and everything :) Thank you for reading!**

**Guest; I hope this update lives up to your expectations! Things are changing, you can be sure of that. Thank you so much :)**

**Niclo121212; YOU CAN HAVE ALL THE NEWTLY. EVERY SINGLE NEWTLY.**

**Guest; Thank you, love! :)**

**Guest; Here is your "update update update update"!**

**Starcrier; I love love love LOVE that you love love love LOVE this! Thank you, hope you enjoy the new chapter :)**

**julesjumper; No worries about the lack of reviewing, I know sometimes people just don't get around to it, but I appreciate it all the same :) And you were right, darling. Shit indeed is about to go down.**

**yiannieee; Thank you so much! I'm always glad to hear good, constructive criticism regarding the technicality of the relationships. And here is your cliffhanger followthrough! Although, this chapter may tend to have the same ending effect... :)**

**maxweston; Thank you, I really appreciate it! :)**

**Newtie; She cares for him very deeply, of that I can assure you. I hope you're equally as "bloody inspired" by the end of the chapter :)**

_**Let the shit storm ensue. **_

* * *

><p>Every one of the gladers stood in awe, staring into the sky as droplets fell lightly to the ground. They seemed to fall out of nothingness; the dark sky was clear and starless as usual, not a cloud in sight. The rain intensified unnaturally, escalating into a torrential downpour. The heavy drops hammered down onto the ground, pelting Charly's skin with icy cold fire sizzled with every impact, and it only took seconds for the towering blaze to exhaust, now just a stack of charred, smoking wood. The gladers began to yell in shock, but their voices were hardly audible over the thundering rain.<p>

"Homestead, now!" Newt yelled curtly from beside her. His hand quickly found Charly's as he pulled her with him, running through the darkness as the group of boys followed, slipping through the mud behind them. Charly's hair whipped about her, strands plastered against her forehead and obstructing her vision. She hastily tried to push them back, losing her footing in the wet grass as Newt dragged her along. They burst through the doors and reeled to the side, the rest of the gladers sprinting through behind them. Charly shivered in her sopping wet clothes and stood there, panting, eyebrows furrowed in confusion; a seemingly permanent state nowadays.

Alby was the last one to come through. He slammed the door behind him, the hammering rain now muffled, the only other noise being the labored breath of each glader as they stood there with the same throughout running through their minds. Minho was kind enough to voice it for them

"What the shucking shuck is goin' on?"

Charly dropped to the floor, clasping the length of her hair between fists and wringing out the red strands as a low murmur settled throughout the room. She looked back up at Newt. She needed some source of certainty, some sense of comfort. But he stood, mouth slightly agape, and stared out the window at the pouring rain just like everyone else.

"This isn't right," he said, walking up to Alby with a determined look in his eye. "One year, no rain. One night, a bloody ocean is dumping out of the sky." The two sat down beside her, soon joined by Minho.

"So what are we gonna do?" prompted Minho. "Keep all these klunk heads in the Homestead for the night?"

"Gonna have to," Alby sighed, turning to look at the window. Rain pelted against the glass even more ferociously than before.

"You think we'll be okay in here?" Charly asked hesitantly

"Not like we have any other choice," Minho said with a frown, looking around at the room. In one corner, a steady drip leaked from the thatched roof. Newt leaned back, resting his head on the wall with an exasperated thunk.

"But seriously, we need a plan of action," Alby broke in.

"What, like go craft some umbrella's to put up around the crops so they don't wash away? Give the cows raincoats?" Minho chuckled, folding his arms behind his head. "Can't do anything for now."

"I meant we need to figure out why the Glade decided to piss down on us tonight," Alby growled, but Minho's cheeky smile didn't fade. Apparently, this was normal.

"There aren't any clouds, it just doesn't make any sense," Newt strained, pressing his fingertips to his temple. "I don't even understand how this is happening, let alone buggin' why."

But Charly did. And she couldn't keep her thoughts in her head for munch longer.

"Don't you understand?" she said quietly, looking around at the boys' confused expressions. She was half thinking out loud, half explaining the revelation she had earlier that day. "It's not 'just happening'. It's them."

They stared at her silently, awaiting her next words. She scooted along the wet floor closer to the group.

"Listen. You guys haven't had rain in the Glade. Ever. The boys nodded slowly. "Look at the sky!"

She pointed again out the now foggy window, still able to see the stark clear black that spread from the horizon.

"That's not natural. There aren't ever any stars out. I know I can't remember much about the outside world, but I know there isn't some strange place where the stars just decided to never show up. Whatever it is, a ceiling, some kind of illusion…it's being controlled by them. They're doing it for a reason."

"The creators?" asked Alby. He seemed to be the only one that could form words aside from Newt, who looked at her and nodded assuringly, almost as though he knew exactly what she was about to say.

"WICKED. They're the creators; the ones who sent you in here and keep sending you stuff."

Alby suddenly looked taken aback. He lowered his eyes at her, clenching his jaw.

"How do you know that?" Charly bit her lip, glancing around at the surrounding boys who all seemed to be occupied with their own conversations.

"I've been having…dreams, ever since I got here," she spoke quietly, leaning her head towards the boys. "Well, I don't know if I'd call them dreams. I think they're real. I keep seeing WICKED, seeing them in some lab talking about us." She strained her memory, trying to recall what information she had omitted in her earlier conversation with Newt. She still couldn't tell them everything, not until she knew who, or what, she was.

"You're kidding!" MInho exclaimed loudly, causing some boys' heads to spin quickly in their direction. Newt whacked him over the head, holding a finger to his mouth and shushing him. Minho shot him a glare before looking back to Charly.

"You're kidding!" he repeated again, this time a hushed whisper. "You've been seeing things and not telling us?"

Alby looked livid, grabbing Charly's shoulder roughly, pushing her back.

"You'd better have a shuck good explanation for why you've kept this a secret."

"Hey, slim it," Newt said in a low growl, ripping Alby's arm from Charly's body as she winced, rubbing the spot where Alby had grabbed her firmly.

"Just because she's your little pet doesn't mean we treat her any differently from any of the other shanks in here," Alby seethed as Newt lunged forward. Charly caught him around the waist before he could reach Alby, who had propelled himself backwards across the floor as quickly as possible.

"Newt!" she hissed under her breath, still trying desperately to keep the conversation unnoticed. "He's right."

She released her hands as the two settled back down, Newt staring angrily at the floorboards while Alby's eyes bore into Charly ever more fiercely.

"First, I don't belong to anyone," Charly spat hotly. "Don't you dare demean me, I'm not a 'pet'. And listen, I didn't know what any of the dreams could even mean until now. Trust me, I'm just as clueless as anyone else here."

"But you could be one of them," a disembodied voice from behind them spoke suddenly. It was Gally. Charly inhaled sharply, face contorting into a horrified stare.

"Man, she went in the maze after Finn…" Newt's voice trailed off in disbelief, shaking his head at Gally. "That's not-"

"He has a point," Alby contested, raising his eyebrows. "Doesn't matter if the girl doesn't remember that they sent her, she could be in here for them anyway. Or she could remember everything." His voice, though quiet and conversational, carried an indisputably condescending tone.

"You hiding anything else from us, greenie?"

Charly balled her fists in anger, frustration. She had saved one of their friend's from dying of blood loss, nearly killed herself trying to save another one, and then spilled tears over his funeral. How dare they still contest her loyalty? She had to remind herself that flying off the matter would only make things worse.

Newt's fingers ran over her fists discreetly. Apparently her anger wasn't as masked as she had hoped. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she relaxed. She needed to tell them more.

"They don't want me in here," she said firmly, refusing to break eye contact with Alby's steely glare. She felt Newt's fingers pull back slightly at the words she had earlier withheld from him. "I saw them, heard them talking about me. They called me a variable, said I would stay a variable until they…figured something else out." She finished, choking on her last words.

_Eliminate. _

She remembered the old man's words clear as day, but figured the term "eliminate" would plant much more violent ideas in their minds. Alby sat back, her words seeming to settle well with him as his face finally softened, but she could see the anger and confusion had not completely vanished.

"Still doesn't explain the rain," he noted, leaning back onto the ground to rest. He gave Charly a look of contempt before closing his eyes, like he wished he could somehow pin this on her. She hoped it was just because he wanted some sort of definitive answer, and not because he was looking to exhaust some pent up aggression.

"So we wait it out, that's all we can do," sighed Newt. Charly silently cursed the fact that all of the warm blankets they had slept in were now outside being drenched by the rain. Her body trembled as she kicked off her boots and pulled her knees to her chest. If anything, this only made her colder. She felt as if she had just completely immersed herself in a frigid swimming pool. Frustratedly, she took a hand and ran it through her hair like habit, but her fingers were quickly tangled in her damp locks. She let out a loud sigh.

Newt chuckled, taking her stuck hand and removing it from the messy strands, which he then tucked swiftly behind her ear.

"Even frustrated looks hot on you."

She shot him an unamused glare.

"So does…whatever that was," he smirked.

Reluctantly, she cracked an exasperated smile.

"Hey, chin up, love," he said softly, taking his hand and lifting her chin ever so slightly. "We'll figure this out."

"I hope so," she replied, taking his hand and kissing it before pulling him down with her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"I also hope you enjoy damp cuddles."

"I loathe them. Horrible, really."

She snuggled closer, shaking her wet hair in his face dramatically.

"You're just lucky I really like you."

"Mhmm," sighed Charly as she closed her eyes, exhaustion taking over as the rain pounded relentlessly agains the Homestead.

* * *

><p>It was the howling wind that woke Charly the next morning. She blinked in the dark room, its only source of light cascading in through the dirty windows. The rest of the boys were still sleeping, huddled together still clad in their damp clothes. Newt's arm slipped from her waist as she sat up, peering through the nearly opaque glass. She could have sworn she saw something move out there.<p>

She rose to her feet and padded slowly across the floor to the window, shivering as the cold wind hissed through the gaps in the wood panes. The sound was almost overbearing, sounding out like a shrill, shrieking cry breaking through the air. Charly wiped away the condensation from the glass.

It was as if someone had taken their hand and pounded it down on the Deadheads. Branches were all slanted violently to the left, bent and cracked and threatening to pull their massive roots from the ground. Some had already been ripped from the trunk, laying broken and scattered across the grass. The tables and benches from las night's bonfire all lay on their sides, some tends of hundreds of feet away from the pile of charred wood whose ashes flew across the Glade like sickly snowflakes.

A crash of wood colliding made Charly swing her head to the right, just in time to make out a door to a distant, circular hut flinging open, swinging wildly in the wind. Furniture began to spill out; a chair, it's legs breaking upon impact as it flew ten feet onto the hard ground, and a stack of drawers. The cabinet fell onto its side, drawers coming unhinged and releasing a throng of papers which spiraled around in the wind. Fifty, one hundred…there had to be at least one thousand. She scrambled over to the boys.

"Newt, Minho!" she whispered urgently, shaking them awake. The pair jolted, looking immediately concerned.

"Wha?" muttered Newt, voice gruff.

"There's wind, destroying everything! Papers, hundreds of them, flying around-" Charly spoke quickly, trying to piece together her thoughts. Minho's eyes widened as she went on and he jumped up, nearly treading on the sleeping bodies as he sprinted towards the door.

"Wake up, ya shanks!" he yelled, pausing at the door. "Maps!"

Newt gained a sense of urgency at Minho's call, hoping over the gladers after him after mumbling some incoherent words of exasperation. Alby, having sat upright, bolted after them, followed by a couple of the more quick-to-respond gladers. Some were still squinting, half-asleep, trying to make sense of the chaos. Charly took no time in running out of the Homestead herself.

The moment she stepped out into the Glade she was swept sideways onto the ground, catching herself against a wooden support post for the roof. She gasped in pain as her chin collided with the solid wood, but with a grimace, stumbled to her feet again and trudged forward. The papers were still streaming from the drawers strewn about the grass. Minho, Newt, Alby, and the others were running around, trying to grab hold of them as if their lives depended on it. It looked like she wasn't the only one having trouble staying on her feet. The boys were falling to their knees every few steps in an attempt to brace themselves against the harsh winds, fists clenched around balls of paper.

"Get back inside!"

Though Newt had yelled the words, his voice was hardly audible, as if the bellow had been caught up and carried away in the forceful gusts. Charly threw a hand up in the air as a sheet flew by, clamping her fingers around it.

"Are you kidding me?!" she shouted back as yet another paper flow her way, plastering itself against her torso. "No fucking way!"

Newt rolled his eyes before diving to catch two papers as they tore across the grass. Even in this moment, she swore she saw a hunt of a familiar crooked smirk play upon his lips.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charly saw Minho dive over one of the drawers, stopping the constant flow of papers. Some of the other gladers followed his cue and pounced on the remaining two. They lifted them into the circular hut, diving through the door. Minho poked his head back out, gesturing for them to follow.

Charly scrambled for the remaining papers in her vicinity, falling to her knees and crawling across the grass. Standing was now not an option; she couldn't support herself against the blustering wind. Hand over hand, she crawled towards the hut. Her fists stung with the cold, paining her with every instance of pressure, but she kept her eyes fixed on the steps. Only a few more feet now.

Charly propelled herself up the few steps rather ungracefully, breathing hard. Minho grabbed her forearm and pulled her to her feet, giving her a reassuring grin as he took the papers from her hands.

"Good job, greenie…Charly." He clapped her on the shoulder. Charly managed a grin between breaths before sauntering over to the opposite wall, sliding down and collapsing against the cement floor. One by one Newt, Alby, and the remaining gladers who had come from the Homestead burst through the door, each carrying handfuls of crumpled paper. Minho swung the door shut behind them, pressing his back up against it.

"Thanks," he breathed flatly, the word greeted with silent nods from all around the room. Charly scanned the room, having never even noticed where they were. This was the room that the runners congregated in after having run the maze each day.

She plucked a stray piece of paper from the ground, smoothing it out across the floor. Hasty pen marks and drawn out a circle, empty aside from one section lining the side, like a piece of pie. Within that one slice was an infinite amount of detail, lines intersecting and meeting in dead ends, corridors, and endless hallways. Maps, Minho had mentioned.

These were drawings of the maze. Charly scanned the rest of the papers that now littered the ground, each one sporting a bare circle with one section that was fleshed out with intricate structures. They were all maps, numbered by day and section. Now Charly understood why Minho had been so concerned.

He was now pacing the floor, a hand pressed up against his forehead as he surveyed the ravaged surroundings. The only noise audible was heavy breathing as everyone struggled to slow their heart rate. Otherwise, silence.

"Oh my god," Charly exhaled, suddenly getting to her feet. Where was the howling whine of the wind? She strode past Minho who stood dumbstruck in the center of the room and threw the door open. Not even a single strand of her red hair lifted from her shoulders. Every leaf on every tree lay sentient.

"How…" she heard Newt croaked from behind her as the group got to their feet and looked over her shoulder. The sky was an unsettling, bright blue.

Charly stepped backwards, back into the hut and away from everything she didn't understand as she shook her head vigorously. Her hand searched desperately for Newt's. He appeared quickly by her side, like her thoughts were somehow transparent to his senses. She grasped his hand almost too tightly, but he didn't seem to mind. They were both numb to their surroundings.

"What the shuck do they want?" Minho voiced aloud to now one in particular. His head was craned upwards into the clear, blue sky.

"What do they want?" Newt repeated tremulously. He was looking at her, Charly knew it, expecting her to have some kind of answer. She turned to him, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted in desperation. She shook her head.

The group headed back to the Homestead in some kind of somber procession. Boys had began to trickle out of the Homestead hesitantly, appearing to have noticed the change in weather as well. They looked equally as unsettled. Charly eyed Alby, who was wearing his normal, emotionless expression. However, there was fear in his eyes. The boy who had lived in the Glade for a year, protecting the his home and its dwellers. Afraid.

Charly's stomach dropped.

If anything had brought a new severity to the situation, it was this. WICKED was toying with them. They were destroying their surroundings, everything that they needed to survive. The maps; so far, their only hope at potentially escaping from this hell. Charly held a key - a vague, seemingly meaningless key, but nonetheless, it was something. If she were to not act upon this, it would be the most selfish thing she could do. Charly thought back to the memorial; the moment when she realized that the thing that mattered most to her was getting these boys out of the Glade. Rescuing them.

Rescuing Newt.

She quickened her pace, running up and placing a hand on Alby's muscular shoulder

"We need to talk."

His eyebrows arched in shock, but quickly lowered to their normal, demeaning stature.

"Sure. I'll call a gathering.

"No," Charly interjected suddenly. "Just you and me."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm actually very happy with this chapter. For some reason I came across an absurd amount of writer's block while trying to churn it out, but hopefully you all will enjoy it. Unfortunately, with both a Biology and Managerial Accounting midterm coming up, I may not have time to update until this weekend. However, please do not think I am abandoning this story! I genuinely care about it too much to leave it like this. <strong>

**I promise you will hear from me this weekend, if not sooner. Love you all.**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Let's Kill Some Crows; Game of Thrones Season 4 ( watch?v=x8jyQwUemNM)  
><strong>

**The Baudelaire Orphans; A Series of Unfortunate Events ( watch?v=-fPT8ojGU10)**


	11. The Clearing

_**Surprise! Apparently having midterms doesn't actually imply that I'm going to study for them. I just started writing, and before I knew it, had 3500 or so words. This chapter definitely flowed right from my thoughts to the page, which always seems to happen when there's a plethora of Newtly dialogue. It was a joy to write. Thank you guys again for all the reviews and follows that have been coming in lately. If you're a new follower, don't forget to say a quick hello in the comments, it's always lovely to hear from you all. **_

_**Quick note before I address the reviews - I've been getting some common questions recently, and figured that the people who voiced them were probably not the only ones wondering so I'll just quickly answer them.**_

_**1) Are Thomas/Teresa going to be making an appearance?**_

_**Nope! This is strictly a sequel - the ending of TOGT should flow smoothly into the beginning of The Maze Runner. It will make a lot more sense come the end of this story, so unfortunately no, they will not be a part of this!**_

_**2) Is there anyone you're basing Charly on/who she is inspired by?**_

_**In terms of personality, I guess I'm pulling from a lot of places. A specific one would be my stubbornness. I really am equally as horrendous when it comes to discussions and rationalizing, although I'm nowhere near as brave. In terms of looks, I 100% found a sort of face claim to Charly before I began writing. Because I suppose my writing is a bit heavier in terms of emotion and description, I always picture my writing playing out as a film, so it's important for me to have some sort of muse. I'm basing Charly roughly off of a Brazilian model by the name of Cintia Dicker. However, I was very selective with the pictures I chose - Charly isn't glamorous in the slightest. However, when she's bare faced with messy hair, that's exactly how I imagine Charly to me. With her hair a few shades deeper, she is undoubtedly Charly.**_

**yiannieee; Thank you so much! That really means a lot, and I hope you found your answer up above :) Hope you like this chapter as well, and if you find yourself thinking of some constructive criticism, I'm always open to it!**

**Annie; The dramz. It continues.**

**Alyssa; You might be doing a lot of giggling/dying by the end of this chapter then, and for that, I apologize profusely. But I'm so happy you're enjoying it so thoroughly and I will update as soon as I can, I promise :)**

**Zstar1; No worries! My internet too has been a bit of a bitch lately, I completely understand - almost as much as I completely understand and share your other pastimes. Thanks for still reading, hope you like this update :)**

**The Ink Spiller; Wow. I'm not sure I deserve that high of praise, but I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! It's a put of a give and take with the story speed, just because 1) things are supposed to be moving a bit quickly and have this sort of snowball effect, and 2) this was originally intended to be more of a short story as opposed to my novel! The response and length have both taken me by surprise, but I'm attempting to take them in stride. However, I did kind of wring out every bit of detail in this chapter - or at least, tried to! - so I hope you'll find something you like there. You'll have to let me know! I'm so happy that Charly and Gally are your OTP. I have such a soft spot for that character, and even with that being said, I didn't imagine he and Charly would click nearly as well as I intended them to. But, things just flowed, as they do sometimes. I agree with the weathered soldier bit completely. As always, thank you for your wonderfully thought out reviews. They're ones I always look forward to.**

**Guest; Thank you, dear! Hope you enjoy this one just as much :)**

**ThomasSangsterisNewt; Ahh, you are absolutely too kind! Even though I'm sticking a bit truer to the book, I definitely see Newt as Thomas Sangster. I think he played the part incredibly well. And I'm so happy that someone has mentioned the soundtracks! I can't write without them - I either listen to something within my enormous library of scores or "10 Hours of Rainfall and Thunder" - no joke. I hope you enjoy the soundtrack in this chapter as well as the accompanying writing :)**

**Guest; There are shit storms galore to come, I'll warn you! But for now, you'll certainly be able to enjoy some more of your OTP in this chapter :) Thanks for reading!**

**Guest; And the shit will continue to get even realer. Double-enforced diapers - stock up on them. (Ew? Was that gross? Don't care. I'm leaving it. You're wonderful, thanks for reading.)**

**Alyssa; Is this the same Alyssa who reviewed earlier?! If so, thanks again, you fantastic individual, you. I'm glad the TOGT was the cause of your giggles.**

**Guest; Let's Kill Some Crows is one of the best tracks in my opinion - that Season 4 soundtrack was just amazing all around. But enough Game of Thrones fangirling! I'm glad you appreciated it, hope you like the new chapter :)**

**julesjumper; It was a lot, wasn't it? Hope that didn't detract from the chapter itself though! Be sure to let me know either way. Thank you so much, hope you like the update!**

**_Alright, guys. Hold on to your feels._**

* * *

><p>Alby folded his arms defensively.<p>

"I'm not going to go tearing back into the maze if that's what you're worried about, but I think I have something that can help us. All of us." Charly looked into his eyes pleadingly. She knew that he didn't quite trust her - hell, he had every right just to dismiss her - and it was now her job to give him a reason to do so. Alby's eyes darted towards the ground, shifting his weight back and forth as he mulled her words over in his mind.

Wordlessly, he nodded. As the group neared the Homestead, they disappeared around the building and off to the side. Charly wrung her hands together in anxiousness, taking a deep shaking breath as Alby looked at her expectantly.

"I think I might know something," she said, keeping her voice low. "I wasn't sent here like the rest of you guys. I was a mistake. Like I said, WICKED doesn't want me in here. But I didn't come in empty handed." Charly reached into her breast pocket and pulled the small, crumpled note from within. She placed the balled up paper in Alby's outstretched hand, watching him with baited breath as he smoothed it carefully, eyes darting back and forth across the surface as though he needed to read it over and over for the words to actually sink in.

"So WICKED doesn't want you here…but someone else does." His voice wasn't patronizing like she expected it to be, didn't take an axe to her point and mutilate it. Instead, he was listening. He was trying to figure this out too.

Remembering she had been asked a question, Charly quickly nodded in agreement.

"I feel like I knew what they wanted…well, the old me did. Like I was in on it somehow. I care about all of you guys like you're my brothers and I hardly know you!" She sighed in exasperation. Charly was tired of being held in the dark. She needed to know why she was in here. By the looks of it, WICKED was trying to do everything they could to withhold that information, and didn't seem to mind destroying their livelihoods in the process.

"Listen, I need to make these connections. If I know how to 'get you out'," she whispered, pointing at the last sentence on the page, "then I need to remember. I need my memories." Alby began to slowly shake his head, as if he already knew the plan of action she was going to suggest.

"I need to go through the Changing."

Alby exhaled sharply, then bit his lip in thought. It was a few moments before he looked back up at her.

"We've only ever given the serum to those who have been stung."

"I know."

"Charly," he said firmly, handing the note back to her. It was the first time he had addressed her by her real name. "The rest of the guys won't go for this, Newt would kill me along with anyone else who had a say. It's suicide."

Charly shook her head, eyes narrowing. She shoved the note back into his chest with a force that took Alby aback.

"No. You look at that and tell me that it isn't a key to getting us out. You look me right in the eyes and tell me you would rather have WICKED get all of us killed than risk finding out what could be your only way out of here." Charly wasn't going to let this slide. Finn's face flashed before her eyes, expression contorted into indescribable pain before morphing into stark hopelessness. His face shrank in her memory, growing smaller and smaller until his mutilated body was covered by the walls slamming together, concrete cracking from the sides in the force. Newt's face, livid and hateful and worried.

Newt's face as the flames of the bonfire cast a warm glow against his sullen cheeks and wrinkled eyes. But contrasting with his decrepit visage was his crooked grin - the one Charly could always see out of the corner of her eyes as his warm, brown eyes studied her features. For a moment, all of the wrinkles and scars and dirt faded, and all she could see was the sparkle in his eyes and all she could hear was the low growl of his voice as he murmured cheeky quips into her ear.

She shook the vision from her mind.

"He can't know," Charly muttered, her gaze finally falling from Alby's eyes to the damp grass. She wasn't quite sure who she was insisting this upon, herself or the boy in front of her. "Newt doesn't have to know, but I need to do this. You'll get me the serum after it's over and I'll be fine. Pretend like you didn't know, like it was my call entirely."

"Well, it doesn't really sound like I have the power to make any calls now, does it?"

"No, not exactly."

Alby was silent for a long while. The normal murmur of voices had struck up again inside the Homestead and a few boys had walked out into the field, beginning to resume their jobs. They didn't have much more time to negotiate.

Without looking at her, Alby nodded silently. Charly returned the gesture.

"We'll need Minho to know, you'll need someone on the inside," Alby noted.

Charly rolled her head back, grimacing. Confiding her plan in the two people Newt seemed to trust most wasn't something she had in mind initially, but ethics weren't exactly her top priority at the moment, It needed to be done.

"Okay," she said with a mix of reluctance and gratefulness. "But it needs to happen soon."

"We'll see," Alby finished before thrusting the note back into her hand and walking back into the Homestead, leaving Charly standing there with nothing but her fist clenched around the one thing she hoped was useful. She needed it to mean something.

* * *

><p>The next few hours passed at an inconceivably slow rate. The entire glader community was up on its haunches, half expecting enormous tsunami waves to come crashing down on them over the hundred-foot-high walls. Sitting there, up against a tree in the shade of the Deadheads surrounded by the rest of the wary med-jacks, Charly almost wished the peacefulness would dissipate into chaos. This eerie nothingness was much worse. She craned her head up, staring into the endless blue sky. It was like they were waiting for something - the opportune moment to strike once again. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath before rolling her head back forward.<p>

Immediately, her eyes fell upon a pair of brown ones, all but a few inches away from her nose.

"Holy hell!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms behind her as she braced herself against the tree trunk. "Really Newt? Right now?"

The boy crouching in front of her let out an amused chuckle before rendering himself upright.

"Good that. Up you get, love." He extended a hand, to which Charly rolled her eyes. Newt raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, part of his blonde quiff flopping down onto his forehead.

"Any reason as to why I should?"

Newt smirked. "You're stressed out."

"Well spotted, there."

"Which stresses me out. So c'mon. Its time for a walk."

Charly threw her hand up and was whisked upright my Newt's deceivingly strong grasp. She looked back to the rest of the med-jacks.

"I'll be back, I guess?"

"Don't keep her too long, Newt," Jeff snickered nonchalantly. "And remember. Things echo around here…"

His laugh was stifled into an "ouch!" as Charly lightly rammed her boot into his thigh accompanied with some endearing words from Newt.

"Oh piss off, will you?"

He turned on his heel and walked without hesitation straight into the Deadheads, stepping over and around the roots that sprouted in and out of the ground sporadically. His figure began to disappear into the shady jungle before Charly realized she was planted, unmoving at the line of trees. Newt must have noticed his lack of company as well, for he whipped his head around, pausing mid-step.

"You coming or what?"

So Charly stepped hesitantly into the shadows, the soft mulch crunching beneath her feet with every step. Newt trudged along ahead of her as she struggled to keep up with him. Through the branches that whipped her shoulders and the hair that stuck to her moist lips she sputtered, "real gentleman, you are! At least wait up!"

She could hear his infuriatingly smug laugh in the distance - the one that simultaneously knotted her stomach and sent her heart into a frenzy.

"Can't keep up?"

She quickened her pace, lowering her head and darting around the wide trunks until Newt was just a few feet in front of her.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. But if I were you, I would worry about potentially getting lost in here, considering I have absolutely no sense of where we are nor where we're going."

Newt swung around the face, her, lips curved into a lopsided grin and lanky arms folded confidently up against his chest. Charly stopped herself nearly inches from him, not letting her steely gaze leave his.

"And does that scare you?" His voice was almost a challenge, and Charly was horrifically competitive.

"No," she whispered with a coy smile before darting off to her left.

She heard Newt's boots thud after her against the soft ground. The pair tore through hordes of brush, leaping over fallen logs and swinging around protruding stumps. She giggled like a child, not caring where she was going, where she ended up, just that she felt weightless and free. Charly shrieked as she felt Newt close distance behind her, his long legs carrying him much farther than her own, and she veered to her right only to stop in her tracks.

Newt crashed into her, unable to stop his momentum, but wrapped his arms around Charly's shoulders as he steadied them both. He froze just as she did.

They had stumbled upon a small clearing. The dull grass that spread throughout the deadheads was illuminated by the uninhibited sunlight, where here it grew lush and abundant. The ground was littered with dandelions, swaying in the soft breeze. Charly's eyes raked Newt's equally shocked expression before he turned to her and shrugged. Evidently, this was a new discovery to him as well.

Charly beamed, letting out a squeal before flopping down onto the ground, skin basking in the bright light. Newt, though a small smile spread across his face, shook his head and sighed.

"What's up with 'ya today? Giggling, smiling, a whole hell of a lot more than you usually do."

"You say that like it pains you," Charly sneered with a grin.

"Oh, it does," he replied simply. "Where'd my sarcastic pain in the ass shank run off to?"

She chuckled, closing her eyes throwing one hand behind her head.

"Oh Newt, I am far, far away from being yours." But he still smiled. He smiled like those words were but a measured challenge.

Charly patted the soft grass beside her in an invitation. "Let's hope some of my cheeriness rubs off on your bitter heart, yeah?"

"Ahh, there she is."

She felt him collapse down next to her, groaning as he stretched his tired limbs. The sky was blindingly bright, so clear and beautiful that it was almost disturbing and unpleasant. But before the thoughts of pouring rain and windstorms got the chance to cascade into her thoughts she pushed them out hurriedly. They didn't deserve to overtake this moment.

She rolled her head to the side, turning instead to face the boy beside her. She wanted desperately to reach up and wipe away the lines of worry that collected on his forehead, to soothe his troubled mind. But she kept her hand by her side, gripping instead around a fistful of long grass.

The breeze picked up again and tossed her tangled hair about, locks strung messily across her scrunched face. She tried unsuccessfully to blow them away, but resorted to an attempt to tuck them back into their respective places. Letting her hands run down the last strand, she twisted and turned the hair back and forth, watching as the sun turned the dark crimson to a sparkling auburn, then as the color faded back it its rich hue.

"It's still so strange," she said quietly, still strangely mesmerized with her own features. "To think that I don't even know what I really look like. I mean, I've caught glimpses..reflections in the silverware, but…we're the one thing we're supposed to remember. The one thing that's supposed to be familiar."

Her thoughts kept flowing but the words stopped, unable to wrap the concept in coherency. Newt looked on at her, knowingly, though his eyes did not mimic the sad, distant look in her own. He rolled lazily to his stomach, taking the strand between his fingers.

"Well, you've got quite long hair. Red, too. But," he continued, tucking the strand softly behind her ear, "that much you've figured out already."

His fingers skimmed down her jawbone, thumb grazing across her cheek. Charly's breath caught in her throat as she watched his eyes follow her jawline, eyes raking her features, feasting upon her existence.

"And freckles. Dotted all up and down your skin. Nose, forehead…" His voice faltered. His fingers left trails across her face and she drank in his voice in its velvety smooth tone. He leaned forward, pressing his warm lips slowly against her forehead. His lips hovered there, just grazing her skin, before moving down and placing a kiss on each cheek as he cupped her face with a free hand.

"Tiny nose," he breathed. Tingles shot down Charly's body as Newt's warm breath encompassed her. "'Scrunches up when you're annoyed with me. I see that all too often." Her lips curled into a smile as he swiftly placed a kiss at the tip of her nose. His thumb moved up from her chin, brushing against her bottom lip in a slow, repetitive caress.

"Blue eyes. Prettier than the sky up there, I'll tell you that. Clear and cool and bright and piercing." Charly was suddenly hyperaware of blinking, of the way her chest rose and fell with each labored breath, of her every bodily movement. All because of the way he looked at her.

"Lips…" he began, his voice low and quiet, but his voice was strangled as Charly sprung forward and caught his mouth hungrily. Newt's grip firmed as he pulled her close but his lips softened, melting against hers. They broke apart, lips just grazing against each other.

"You know, it's quite rude to interrupt people, greenie." His tone was husky as she smiled into his lips.

"Oh, shush."

She took his shirt in her fist and pulled herself into him, all space between the pair disappearing as Charly's lips met his once again. Quick pecks intermixed with long lingering kisses, hands tugging and grabbing and, so it seemed, never letting go. Charly moved slowly in a despairing effort to somehow make their undoubtedly limited time stretch longer and longer, so that it might break from its bounds and they could lay there in the soft grass forever and just _be_.

Now that her "elimination" was in question, just _being_ wasn't something she could take for granted anymore. But it was all she wanted to do, just _be_ there, entangled in Newt's arms with her head up against his rapidly beating heart and her legs clinging to his tall frame.

And so they lay, exchanging kisses between laughs. Charly didn't even know why she was laughing. It was like this whole situation was ridiculous, that they had somehow found somewhere so serene and lovely in the midst of something so horrific that the idea was a concept she still struggled to grasp was even real. It had to be a dream, yet it wasn't.

Charly let her head fall back down to the grass as they broke apart, her palm still pressed against Newt's torso, her index finger tracing small infinity symbols against his exposed neckline. Though her breath was heavy, she had never felt more at ease.

She could see his eyes scan her fervently, like he was trying to memorize and map her every freckle. With a smirk, she rolled on her side to face him, folding her arm and resting her head in the crook of her elbow.

"You creep, stop staring."

Instead of letting a usual retort spring from his lips, he held a single finger up to hers.

"Shh, just let me indulge myself."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means," he said, letting his hand caress her jawline softly before he pulled it back. "That you're the loveliest thing I've ever laid my eyes on. The loveliest thing I'll ever lay my eyes on, for that matter."

Instinctively, she rolled away from him, hiding her beaming face and reddening cheeks. It should be absolutely illegal to make someone this happy. So why did his words strike a pang of sadness into her heart, and why did her eyes sting?

"I just…want to get to know you," he continued, and Charly felt his rough hand slip around her waist.

"You know me better than anyone here," she replied truthfully.

"All of you, inside and out. I want to explore your mind."

Charly rolled back onto her back, looking the boy in his deep brown eyes.

"I know you like books, you hate being told what to do, and you hate being given limits. You hate to see people get hurt when they don't need to." His eyes sparkled as he fell into his natural simper.

"You like me, most of the time."

Charly shot him a sly smile. "See, spot on."

"So tell me more."

"If I could remember anything, I'd tell you everything," Charly sighed sadly, and she meant it.

"Right, we'll start with some simple questions then. Favorite sound?"

"Newt," she lowered her eyes incredulously.

"_Charly_," he drawled, his accent making his taunt sound enticing rather than intimidating. Knowing him, he would have easily gone for either effect.

She pondered for a few seconds, pushing her lips together. "I think…thunder. Yeah, rolling thunder in the distance."

"Favorite smell?"

"Grass."

"Grass?"

"Grass!"

"Good that. Favorite word?"

"Christ, Newt. Umm…serendipity." He laughed. A full on, eyes closed, head-tossing laugh.

"Posh little shank, you are."

"You're the one who asked!" she contested with a smile. "It's a good word!"

"Guess so. We're quite serendipitous, aren't we?"

Charly sighed. They were quite the little happy accident. Well…accidental? Sure. Happy? Right now, she was. Fate had to have some sort of cruel hand in their meeting. She turned to him, wanting to nod her head and agree, but all she found herself capable of doing was staring in awe at his so unprecedentedly blithe expression.

"Why do I feel like I've known you for so long?" she said softly, studying his features for what felt like the hundredth time. Which, to be honest, didn't make her any less inclined to do so. She could study him thousands of times without any inclination of boredom. Newt paused, his smile fading into something much less content.

"Ya know, there are some times I wish that you never came up in this box, because I think it'd all be easier. Going through this when you don't have to." Charly's smile fell and Newt's hand reached out instinctively, intertwining her fingers with his. "But then there are other times where I think about not having you here, and…I don't think I'd like that at all."

Charly bit back her lip, suddenly overcome with a wave of inseparable emotions. Empathy, because she wanted nothing more than for Newt to be out of this maze, even if it meant they never were to cross paths. Sadness, because she wasn't quite sure if she herself would want to reside in a world where she didn't have his arms to wrap her up in a comforting embrace. A slight hint of annoyed pragmatism, because she knew that the only way out of this with the least collateral damage was to not have these very conversations in the first place.

"I just…don't want to get your hopes up. Our hopes up." She couldn't look at him anymore. She was so detached from the words coming from her own mouth that she weren't even sure they were her own. Her eyes were completely dry. "I just don't want to get to close."

"I know you don't," he said, his tone equally as sad as it was earnest. "But hey. It'd be a privilege to have my heart broken by you."

It was a weird feeling, to become so instantaneously aware of your own mortality. It was even more odd to see so clearly how, by simply not existing, you can punch incessant holes into someone else's sanity of their own world. Because even though she had denied the very statement earlier, Newt's words solidified something that she had been trying very hard not to accept.

Charly was oh, so unwittingly his.

They hardly even noticed the distant shouts coming from the Homestead.

* * *

><p><strong>It seemed an appropriate end. Speaking of the end, I've been giving some thought as to how many more chapters we have in store, and I can quite honestly say that I'm really not sure. It really does depend on word count and just how things flow and play out, but I'll give fair warning, no worries there. <strong>

**As always, please let me know if you have any constructive criticism, thoughts, or if you just want to say hi! Don't forget we've got some serious plot points coming up - leave your speculations in the comments, discuss amongst yourselves! That's one of the best parts of reading anything, whether it be some amazing classic novel or a simple fanficiton like this one :) Until next time. Love you all.**

**P.S. ~ In a quick nod to one of my favorite writers and human beings of all time celebrating the 10th anniversary of his novel _Looking for Alaska_, I've thrown in some John Green inspired lines. Specifically, TFIOS inspired lines. Let me know if you can spot them all. If I can remember, there are at least three.**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Obliviate; Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 ( watch?v=yrLJ5dLpujk) **

**Define Dancing; WALL-E ( watch?v=K-7LIojfezw)**

**Life and Death Theme; Lost, interpreted by Paul Cardall ( watch?v=Ov-u8bqOt7U)**

**Title Theme; Road to Perdition ( watch?v=XN3ogbTuDSE) **


	12. The Strain

_**Hello to my lovely, patient viewers after what seems like an eternity of not updating! Studying for midterms as well as not being able to work on TOGT was a miserable pairing, but I'm so happy that I'm back. However, some exciting things did happen while we were on a bit of a hiatus. We've nearly reached 100 reviews, and surpassed 200 follows! So I'd just like to thank all TOGT's followers, commenters, and favoriters - old and new - for making this such an amazing experience for me and giving me such great and meaningful feedback. You never fail to make my day.**_

**IvyMoore; I'm happy you took the time to browse around and click on this one, seeing as it's been buried in all the other updated stories as of late! Thank you so much, you're too sweet, and I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as you've enjoyed the rest :)**

**Guest; Thank you! Sorry this update came a little slower, but hopefully it was worth the wait! Thank you for reading :)**

**Becki; This means so much! Oh, darling, you're absolutely lovely. I'm such a huge fan of the Hunger Games soundtrack! it's incredible, and James Newton Howard does some pretty amazing stuff. And you're the only one that commented on the TFIOS references, so for that, I applaud you! Hopefully this chapter is something you love as well, and no worries, there's enough tension in this update for as many shit storms to whirl up as your heart desires :)**

**Alyssa; Ahh, sobs. Mission accomplished. I hope you have enough compassion in your heart to forgive me - at least, that is, before you read this chapter. Then you have every right to revoke your forgiveness. Thank you so much for reading :)**

**ThomasSangsterisNewt; This review absolutely made my day. I read it all the way home from Biology back to my apartment with a very embarrassing smile plastered across my face. Your analysis of the Newt and Charly's relationship is nearly spot on, so I'm happy that the vision I have in my mind is being conveyed well to you and, hopefully, the rest of my readers! I have to agree, the Harry Potter soundtracks are a staple in any music score lover's collection - they're impossible not to appreciate, especially the early ones with John Williams composing! No one can dislike anything John Williams creates! Thank you so, SO much for your lovely comments on my style as well. I'm so humbled by everything you said :) And no worries on it being long at all! That's like apologizing for cutting someone a piece of cake that's "too big". As for other Maze Runner fanfics, I really haven't read too many, although there is a fic titled "As the Sun Rises" written by RMoriluvr that really is quite spectacular. It's short in chapters (only three parts) but long in terms of content, and I highly suggest it. I know he/she has reviewed on my story as well, so if you see this, know that I loved your fic! My favorite series is undoubtedly Harry Potter. From thematic, creative, and stylistic standpoints, it's just spectacular in so many ways. I genuinely think it's a book series for all ages. As for books, I've really loved 1984 (as mentioned in TOGT, actually!), The Outliers, Pride and Prejudice, Invisible Man, and Hamlet. There's no particular reason why i chose the name Charly - I genuinely like the name and think it fits well with some of the background information you will soon find out about. Not necessarily a playlist that I love, but a compilation of songs I've been listening to is this one here! ( watch?v=L6sprABYzS4) It's got a great mix of different soundtracks that I love, including Pride and Prejudice, Atonement, and the Painted Veil. That user also has many other good compilations that I've listened to, all worth a gander if you so fancy. I'm sorry MY reply was so long! Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this update :)**

**mariihamadeh; I'm so happy you do! Here's to hoping you love this update as well :)**

_**And so, to all of you who are thinking, "wow, I fucking hate long author's notes...", I'm here to concur. Let's get this show on the road!**_

* * *

><p>Charly's hair stood on end. She jolted upward immediately, bracing herself against the soft earth.<p>

"Did you hear that?" she stammered to Newt, but her question was answered as he scrambled to his feet, squinting into the thicket of trees towards the center of the Glade. A symphony of frantic, unintelligible voices rang out, and as their echoes bounced off the trees Charly imagined the frantic gladers all around them. Her breathing quickened as she pushed Newt forward, tearing into the line of trees.

She kept her head down, jumping the brush and roots that threatened to break her stride. The voices grew progressively louder and she strained her ears to make sense of the muffled sounds, but to no avail.

_Crack._

The sound resonated in the air like a gunshot, followed by an even more intense crackling that filled the air, almost like fireworks. But Charly kept her head down, hoping desperately she was headed in the right direction. Glancing up, her eyes stung. The air was hazy, visions of trunks and tropical foliage blurred as though she had just woken up. Her breathing was labored, as if the air had thickened within the minute they had began running. Wheezing, she pulled her shirt collar over her mouth and trucked on.

The voices were growing louder as the air grew thicker, the terrifying crackling sounds growing more ever-present.

"Get the water!"

"Make sure it doesn't get past the line of trees!

"Charly!"

The last voice was Newt's voice, ringing out clearly in the muggy air and making her whip her head upward just in time to see the wall of fire that now faced her. She shrieked. The heat that hit her was nearly unbearable, its severity burning her eyes so strongly that she squeezed them together as she stumbled backwards into Newt. She forced her eyes open again, squinting at the flames that had engulfed the entire area before them and were now licking around crumbling branches, moving towards them at an alarming rate.

She felt Newt's hand grab hold of her shirt neck, yanking her to the left as she tried to tear her eyes from the wall of flames and gather her balance as they sprinted off in a different direction. Her arms flailed wildly as they ran beside the flames. Charly coughed, her lungs aching as the ashes began to swirl in the air like sickly snowflakes. She shot a furtive glance backward.

The fire was advancing quickly at an almost unsettlingly unnatural speed. The pit in her stomach grew as she realized that there was no way possible her legs could carry her fast enough to escape the fire for much longer. She threw her gaze desperately forward once more, scouring the trees for any possible escape. As Newt sided a glance to their right, she could see the towering flames reflected in his wide eyes.

"Agh!"

Newt cried out from in front of her, his face grimacing in pain but still moving forward at a considerably slower pace. Charly's eyes were drawn immediately to his leg. His limp was much more prevalent.

"C'mon!" she shouted, grabbing hold of his forearm in support as they bolted across the forrest floor, now littered in feathered ash. It was then that the dirt footpath caught her eye.

Off to her right, a small dirt pathway extended towards the center of the Glade. The small clearing would give them just enough passing space before the fire could leap across and block their path.

"Look!" she shouted, pointing towards the path before grabbing her throat in pain. She could taste the smoke on her lips.

Newt nodded, and just as they reached the opening, thrust the two of them through the small gap. Charly screamed, feeling the flames singe her right side as she barreled forward, eyes closed, grabbing tightly onto Newt's thin tunic.

The branches stopped scraping across her limbs, ankles stopped turning and twisting on roots protruding from the earth, and the gladers's shouting was now clear as day. Charly gasped for breath, her lungs filling with the clear, thin air. Immediately, she felt arms around her as she and Newt were surrounded by people.

It was the med-jacks who had seen them walk into the Deadheads what seemed like hours ago and, by the looks of it, had assumed the worst until now. Clint hugged Charly firmly as she stared blankly into the crowd of gladers, mouth agape and breath still rattling in her aching lungs. Minho was patting Newt on the back, who was doubled over in a fit of violent coughs. Alby looked terrified, and though he stood with them, his eyes were fixated on the Deadheads. Charly followed his gaze.

The entire front line of towering trees was now adorned with looming flames, casting an orange glow across the terrified expressions of every boy who stood before the forrest. They had formed a sort of assembly line, passing buckets of water from inside the Homestead to the oldest boys in front, who tossed the water into the flames. Some of the trees were free of flames, but plentiful, green leaves no longer adorned their branches. They were lifeless, shriveled and scorched to blackness.

Her eyes caught Gally's. He was standing off to the side of the working gladers, his stare filled with unfamiliar worry. It was almost like catching a glimpse of the old him. She nodded to him quickly. Reassuringly. He pursed his lips together, nodding back as the worry quickly dissipated from his expression. He turned back to the scene.

But it was like the water was having no effect. But the time the small area that the water came in contact with was extinguished and another bucket came to the front line, the flames had already consumed the branches again. In fact, the fire now looked even more colossal than it did when she first saw it.

"Hey!" Newt yelled, his voice gruff from breathing in the thick smoke. "Quit it, shanks! Nothing we can do, fire's too big. Stand guard and make sure it doesn't get to any of the buildings, but otherwise, let it burn out. Can't waste all out water."

The boys stopped shouting, falling deafeningly silent. Some dropped their buckets in defeat while others stared into the flames with unmatched contempt. Clint dropped his arms to his sides, throwing both his hands behind his neck and sighing. Her eyes flickered to Alby's disheartened gaze once again.

He turned to Charly, his stony glower striking a sudden panic into her heart.

"Tomorrow."

His voice was rigid and quiet. She nodded back slowly, biting down on her lip in an attempt to keep her gaze stern, fighting the urge to whimper with fear right on the spot. She reached up to run a hand hastily through her hair, fingers crunching against the few ends that had been singed off as she and Newt burst out of the forrest. Her mind raced, eyes scanning the rat of the gladers with a sudden panic. It was as if she was trying to memorize them before she disappeared into the maze. Why was she so suddenly terrified?

A hand landed lightly on her shoulder and she looked up to see Newt's face, patched with black ash.

"You alright?"

But his voice didn't have the comforting, warm tone it usually carried. She could see the fear in his eyes, sense it in his trembling fingertips. Worry lines were etched deep into his forehead. Charly dropped her gaze.

"Yeah."

She knew he wasn't convinced, knew that by his furrowed brows he yearned to pry her mind open with questions but by his tight lips he was holding them back in pained, though silent frustration. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her dark, matted hair before stalking away into the Homestead.

She sighed, closing her eyes to try and clear her mind. She needed to stay focused. However, focused proved difficult when all she could do was stare in horror at the lofting plumes of black smoke spiraled into the air, spewing ashes that rained down, delicately fluttering though the air.

* * *

><p>Charly plunged her face into her cupped hands, splashing the cold water against her face. With trembling hands, she hurriedly scrubbed her cheeks and forehead, half trying to loosen the ash that had plastered itself on her glistening skin, half to get a gold of herself. She hated this. She hated being afraid of her own decision to get stung and go through the changing, but at the same time had no urge to change it. She knew it had to be done, that to simply opt out of this strategy in favor of comfort and security was selfish. But Charly couldn't pinpoint the source of hear fear. Was it the task of stepping into the maze and finally coming face to face with a griever, or was it fear of the memories that could come flooding back into her mind - a fear of who she was before she entered the maze? What if she was failing her mission?<p>

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Charly muttered under her breath, gripping the sides of the sink until her knuckles turned white. "Come on." She stared at the water spiraling down the drain, small droplets falling off the tip of her nose and splashing against the concrete basin. Shaking her head, she dabbed her sleeves gently against her face. Feeling the note crumple in her pocket she bit down forcefully on her bottom lip, trying to hold back tears. She slowly reached into her shirt, rubbing the note between her fingers as a sort of reassuring symbol. She was sent her for a reason, she had a purpose, and she was going to take hold of this twisted fate she found herself in. Everything was hers to control. Charly exhaled sharply, pulling her hair out of her face.

She was going to make a difference.

"Are you going to tell me what's bugging you, or do I have to conduct an interrogation?" Newt asked stiffly from the doorway. His arms were folded tightly against his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, studying her. His eyes flicked furtively to her fingertips, which were still pinching the note together. Quickly, Charly shoved it back to the bottom of her pocket.

"I'm fine," she snapped back at him, perhaps a bit more harshly than she intended. Averting her eyes, she brushed by him and down the hall, fixated on her boots as she strode purposely through the upper loft of the Homestead.

"Charly!"

She ignored his frustrated shout, tried to shut out the sound of his boots hammering against the floor as he pursued her down the narrow hallway. Just as she was about to run down the stairs, Newt's hand slammed down forcefully onto her shoulder, whipping her around. His eyes were still fixated on her pocket.

"What are you doing?" he seethed through clenched teeth, his tone of voice low and dangerous. Charly pushed his hand roughly from her shoulder.

"Newt, stop."

"Oh seriously, Charly, what -"

"Stop!" Her voice rose quickly, face growing hot. "I'm just…stressed about everything. Leave me alone, for once."

Newt gave her an incredulous glare, standing taller, more defensively.

"Who do you think I am, some stupid shank? You can't fool me like you fool the rest of them."

"You don't know me, Newt. You don't know who the hell I am, you're not entitled to my feelings, my emotions!"

She knew the words had stung him right as they fell from her mouth. His lips parted, frowning slightly as his tensed features contorted into agonized confusion. Charly breathed heavily, like the insult had physically exhausted her as much as it had emotionally.

"So what was today, huh?" Newt's arms fell to the side, looking up to the ceiling. "Just some shucking fun and games to you, was it?"

Charly was at a loss for words. She couldn't take back the things that she said, nor was she sure if she wanted to. He was being so infuriating; all she wanted was to be left alone, yet here Newt was, meddling with her thoughts and taking a dagger to her emotional stability. Charly couldn't afford things like this to happen.

She lunged forward on her tiptoes, placing a hand on either side of his cheeks as she smashed her mouth against his. Newt didn't protest, but his lips did not move against hers as they did only a few hours ago. There was no spark.

"I can't do this right now," she murmured wistfully, her face just inches from Newt's emotionless stare. With that, she barreled down the steps and through the doors of the Homestead, slamming them behind her loudly.

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><p>The boys that had been mulling aimlessly about the Glade looked up at her, but upon seeing the expression of contempt on her face, they quickly avoided her gaze. She pressed her hands against her temples, letting out a moan of frustration. Things had been going so well, but she guessed it would be foolish of her to believe that she could fall in love with Newt and get back up unscathed.<p>

"Did you get hurt, in the fire?" It was Billy, his mouth parted in concern and shocking blonde hair sticking up at all angles, still tousled with dark ashes.

Charly sighed and forced a smile. Although, looking at the boy's expression, she had to admit that her smile didn't come with too much difficulty.

"No, I'm okay, don't worry about me." She reached behind her hair and pulled at the singed bits of hair with a grin. "Just this bit here, see?"

"Okay," he said, face relaxing back into a toothy grin. Charly reached out a hand and gently sifted the ashes from his locks, smoothing it down. His eyes lit up

"You were real brave!"

"Not as brave as you, bud," she chuckled, pointing to the trees. "I saw you putting out that fire, protecting the Homestead."

Billy puffed out his chest proudly, but Charly hardy noticed. Her eyes lingered on the Deadheads. The black smoke was gone, and instead a white haze lingered over the completely singed trees. Nearly the entire left side of the forrest was obliterated aside from the tree trunks that stood almost unnaturally, emerging from the grey dust. She had to be seeing thirty meters deep into the trees, maybe forty, without any leaves to obstruct her vision. Her mouth parted in disbelief. She saw the clearing of brush that she and Newt had rested in. It was no longer a sanctuary of sorts, instead lackluster and depressing. WICKED had managed to that from her too.

"Ya know, some people think it's your fault…" Billy trailed off, his voice sad once more. Wide-eyed, he looked up to her, and after she did not respond, excitedly proclaimed, "but I'm not one of them! It can't be your fault."

She smiled down at the boy, which made his grin reappear almost instantaneously.

"Some of us think you're here to save us! You know, that you're here to get us out 'cos you're different!"

"Oh really?" she smirked, a comforting warmth spreading throughout her chest.

"Yeah! If there's anyone that can do it, my money's on you!"

Charly laughed, patting the boy on the pack softly. "Well everyone's working hard to get all of us out as soon as we can. You're in good hands all around."

Billy's face fell suddenly as he stared blankly off into the distance. She followed his gaze to the northern gate, its looming doors standing open like a mouth into the darkness.

"Do you think we'll be here forever?"

Charly frowned, dropping to her knees and placing her hands on Billy's shoulders.

"Don't you ever think like that again, okay? Of course we're going to get out, all of us." She spotted Gally out of the corner of her eye, then leaned forward and whispered into Billy's ear.

"Even Gally." The boy burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Promise me?"

Billy nodded slowly, a small grin creeping across his face. Charly leaned forward and kissed him swiftly on the forehead before the boy ran back off to his friends.

Dusting off her knees, Charly stood back up.

"Sweet of you," Gally's voice called as he approached her. "You know, saying that stuff to him. But you can't get their hopes up too high."

"Don't be ridiculous," Charly sighed. "You ever hear of a group of pessimists banding together to do anything constructive?"

"Never said we had to be pessimistic. Just realistic."

Charly paused, leaning back against a fence post and surveying Gally. His arms were placed firmly on his waist, eyebrows slightly narrowed. She knew he was right, but all she wanted right now was something positive to hold on to. Especially right now.

"You used to be so different, you know, before everything that happened. Hardly saw you without a smile on your face…then they ruined you." Gally's expression didn't falter, instead, he clung to her every word.

"They're ruining everything," she continued exasperatedly, wringing the hem of her shirt in her fist as she arched her neck, staring into the sky. "Why is everyone changing?"

"What did he do to you?" His voice was almost a forced calm, like he was trying to hide some sense of frustration. Charly quickly shot a glare back at him. She knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Don't," she warned.

"What? Point out that he's the only one who can get inside your head and turn you into some shuck-faced…shuck head?" He struggled for words, stammering as anger boiled in his tone.

"Gally, I would shut your mouth before I take my fist to it," Charly said dangerously. She could feel her mind beginning to race.

She saw his forearms tense, veins protruding from his neck, but only for a split second as he shook his head, shifting his weight back and forth.

"Look, I'm saying this because I care. He shouldn't have that kind of effect on you. No one person should be able to completely rip you apart from the inside out." To Charly's surprise, his expression softened, his defensive tone subsiding into something much more vulnerable. Something much more pained.

"Well, you look pretty angry right about now. Maybe you should take your own advice."

The stony expression he wore so well faltered completely. His eyes slipped into sadness. She stared up at him, mouth parting in surprise. She had never seen him look so broken.

"Yeah," he agreed, his tone emotionless as he looked past her. "Maybe I should."

They stood in a silence that seemed to last for hours before Gally spoke again.

"Alby wanted to talk to you. Come."

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><p><em><strong>This chapter was...interesting to write, to say the least. Lots of tension, lot's of things happening, lots of things ABOUT to happen. Personally, I especially enjoyed writing that last little scene between Gally and Charly; their dynamic is something that I really love! I know we have a few GallyCharly shippers out there...anyone else feeling it? Or are you hardcore Newtly? Let me know, as always. I love hearing from you all.**_

_**Hopefully I'll have yet another chapter up here for you to read before the end of this weekend. In the meantime, be sure to let me know what you think in the reviews! They mean a lot. Love you all.**_

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Maze Rearrange, The Maze Runner ( watch?v=XD9x-usd-dY)**

**Ron Leaves, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 ( watch?v=B4dBKrhF-9c)**

**Hermione's Parents, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 ( watch?v=iaZWD8FJMLw)**

**You Are No Son Of Mine, Game of Thrones Season 4 ( watch?v=yzfbTWpoZYA)**


	13. The Plan

_**Hi guys! Another chapter done. This week was a bit of a busy one in terms of both schoolwork and TOGT; in the middle of my financial accounting class, I had this huge epiphany and re-thought the entire ending of this story. No joke. I made a six page, handwritten outline for the two chapters that follow the turning point and if I could somehow attach them to this chapter in order for you guys to see, I totally would, because I was both slightly impressed and slightly shocked. Perhaps I'll relay you the alternate ending when the time comes, but you'll have to wait for that! The good news is that this ending certainly draws the story about a bit longer which, hopefully, makes you all happy!**_

**LastOfTheWine; Thank you so much! I'm happy you enjoyed the beginning and certainly hope you continue to read on, I appreciate the constructive commentary :)**

**FireAndAish; This review makes my heart happy! I'm so glad you enjoyed it and if there was any way I could have possibly made Newt appear hotter than he's described, I'm excited that I'm doing it. It sounds like tons of people are going through exams right now, so I hope yours went well :)**

**plt4ever419; Love YOU! :)**

**Alyssa; The delicate little flower in me wants to have Newt and Charly sit in that clearing forever, but unfortunately, that would prove to be a pretty uneventful short novel! As far as this story goes, it was meant to be pretty non-fluff, but I'm glad you're still enjoying it and that I've found some little places to sneak some lovely moments in :) I'm glad you liked the story and the playlist, I'll definitely continue to add on to both!**

**Hal; Here's the update! I hope you enjoy it just as much :)**

**Haliston; Ahh, well thank you, that's really a great compliment :) Assuming their plan goes correctly, I'm sure you ALL will love seeing Charly go through the changing - it'll really dangle the plot on it's head.**

**Laurafxox; Let me just say, coming from someone who hasn't read the books nor the movie, this means SO much to me! Originally I posted on here because I thought it was a good way for me to get a response to my writing, considering the universe already had its own fanbase, but to see people enjoying it who aren't necessarily part of that fandom makes me unbelievably happy :) Gally does get stung on the books and unfortunately we are only exposed to his more arrogant, brutish side because that happens before the timeline of The Maze Runner; we really don't know what he was like before all of that, so I thought that would be really interesting to write. Anyway, I'm so happy that you enjoyed, and hope that you continue to read and let me know what you think :)**

**EnoraDixon; Newt is quite adorable when he dawns his protective side, isn't he? And your English is splendid! Thank you for reading :)**

**The Ink Spiller; Yay! I knew you would enjoy Gally in this chapter. Maybe Chally? Garly looks too much like gnarly and brings to mind your stereotypical californian surfer, which is rather laughable. Billy and Charly's conversation was a last minute addition that I really, really ended up liking, so I'm glad you were fond of it as well. As always, thanks for your feedback - I always look forward to it! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**IvyMoore; Thank you so much! I agree, I like both of their relationships, but there's something between her and Newt that I can't quite put into words :)**

**_So what are you waiting for? Start up that Chapter Soundtrack and get reading._**

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><p>They walked across the Glade wordlessly, Charly straying a few steps behind Gally. Maybe it would be better this way, with the people she loved just slightly more emotionally distanced than she was used to. Her feet would be that much lighter as she sprinted into the maze.<p>

It took a few minutes before Charly realized that they were heading to the map room. Her heart rate picked up. This was happening.

Gally rapped his knuckles hard against the wooden door, thrusting it open after a muffled voice from the inside gave him what she guessed to be some sort of clearance. He nodded silently, gesturing for her to enter. She bounded up the steps to see Alby standing at a large round table, hunched over, eyes fixed on her own. Minho was there too, slumped into a chair, one leg thrown over the rickety arm with his chin propped up in his palm. He stared at the ground, and Charly was quite sure that the malice behind his eyes wasn't due to Gally's presence.

"Just Charly," Alby announced gruffly, and Gally, who had been following Charly through the door, halted. He rolled his eyes.

"Funny."

"Out, slinthead," Alby shot back. "I mean it."

Gally opened his mouth to protest, taking a menacing step forward and clenching his fists, but must have decided against it. With a sharp exhale and a glare, he turned on his heel and burst out of the door. The metal hinges on the door creaked from the sheer force as the wooden door hurled back around, slamming closed with a thud. Alby sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. For just a moment, the seventeen-year-old boy looked like an old man.

"I'm sorry…" began Charly, but Alby shook his head fervently. She didn't know what she was apologizing for. Complicating things? Giving them more ounces to the invisible weight they carried? Whatever it was, she hated it. She thought back to the morning she woke up in bed after being carried from the box hole. Their amused faces as she defensively shot questions their way, laughing and sympathizing as they did with every new greenie. She guessed that, as terrifying as this experience was for her, it was equally as unexpected and frightening for everyone else.

"Good that," Alby grunted, ambling over to a tall filing cabinet and ruffling through one of the drawers. It was battered and dented, and Charly recognized it as the cabinet that had tumbled out of the room as the torrential winds had swept through the Glade. The maps.

He pulled a single sheet of parchment paper from the drawer, blowing gently across the surface. Specs of dust flew into the air lit by the sparse beams of light that flooded through the opaque window panes. They had been here for a full year, been drawing up maps since day one, different page for each section…Charly almost felt tears brim as she thought of the runners penciling out every painstaking detail, some not even living to do so at the end of the day. And for what? Their effort thus far had been futile.

Waving the cloud away, Alby spread the paper across the table. Charly inched closer and leaned her elbows on the table, getting closer to make out the intricacies of the drawing. "Section 7" was written out and underlined across the top.

"We've been thinking," he started, gesturing to Minho who still stared blankly into a distant corner of the room. "You'll run into the Maze approximately thirty minutes after the rest of the runners enter. You know, give 'em some time to get running their sections, give everyone here in the Glade a bit to get on with their days. Then Minho will meet up with you just outside of Section 7. He'll show you the route to the Cliff."

Charly's heart skipped a beat.

"The Cliff?"

"Just what it sounds like," interjected Minho coldly. "Cliff in the middle of the maze, shuck thing drops off into nothin'. We've had greenbeans run straight off before, never saw them again after that." He paused, pursing his lips together.

"So why are we going there? What's that got to do with anything? The plan?"

"That's where the grievers hang out." Charly swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Right."

"Right…" continued Alby, eyes flickering between Charly and Minho uncomfortably. "He'll lead you to the Cliff, but he'll have to stay behind when you approach it and watch from afar. Too dangerous to have both you guys in there at once. Once you've been stung, Minho will distract it, pull it away from you and give you time to run out of there."

"Excuse me? Run out of there?" Charly asked incredulously. "You're telling me that when I get stung by this thing, I'll be able to get back up and run again like I just skinned my knee?"

"You'll have a minute or so before it hits you, and since you won't have the shock factor playing into it, you've maybe got even longer." Alby gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, which did next to nothing for Charly's comfort levels.

"And besides," he continued. "I'll be meeting you halfway down your entrance route just in case anything goes wrong. I'll be able to help you out of the final bit of the Maze."

Charly nodded, taking a slow, shuddering breath. There was no going back now.

"Minho will show you the way along this map," Alby conceded, patting the page twice before stepping aside.

But Minho didn't move.

Charly saw his eyes close, as if mulling over the idea in his head over and over. She could sense he didn't approve; it wasn't like Minho to fall into any emotion that remotely resembled "reserved".

"It's not safe," he finally muttered.

"Minho, I know that," Charly sighed, speaking softly. "It's not going to be safe no matter how we do it, we just need-"

"Listen," Minho boomed suddenly, causing Charly to jump back. He slammed his hands down on either side of the chair, propelling himself upward and towards Charly at an alarming speed.

"You're still a shuck greenie," he spat. "You've got no right making decisions like these, and we can't just go about making stupid secrets about them!"

Minho looked down to the ground, rubbing a hand behind his neck. His breathing slowed.

"You're a good person, Charly. I like you. You know that. Gotta stop you from doing stupid klunk."

"I'm not like the rest of you!" Charly shouted. She was fuming, so angry that people who knew nothing about what she'd seen and felt were trying to tell her how to feel, how to react, as if they themselves knew better. She reached into her pocket and threw the crumpled note at Minho. It hit his chest dully and fluttered, unceremoniously, to the ground.

"Trust me, being here would be a lot easier if I were. I just…I know you're trying to protect everyone, I get it. But so am I." Charly stood sentient, her chest heaving up and down. She could feel her cheeks reddening, the hysterics creeping up within her, but she didn't care to hold them back.

"I have no idea what's going to happen in there," she said slowly, voice beginning to squeak and fumbling for words as Minho's fingers tore open the note and scanned the page. His eyes softened.

"Dunno if going through the changing is going to give us any helpful information or if it's just going to make matters worse, but that right there tells me that this isn't just some game or a test…it's more important than that. I have to do something, and going in the Maze and risking my life is better than sitting out here watching WICKED destroy everything that's allowing us to stay sane. I can't let them do that, not if I'm the one they want to hurt…"

Charly rambled on, only stopping as Minho rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly, her breathing hitching as choked sobs finally came rolling forward. She let her forehead fall onto his shoulder, her arms pinned by her side my Minho's grasp.

"I just can't see people getting hurt for me, dying for me, if they keep attacking. I just keep thinking about it. I see it over and over in my head, like a tape reel. You, Alby, or Gally, Billy…Newt." She fumbled between sobs, sputtering mouth tripping over words and lacking to find ones that seemed to hold anywhere near enough importance, but Minho stroked her hair comfortingly.

"I know, I know," he soothed against Charly's trembling body. His tone was warm again, melting away at her tense muscles as she slowed her breathing. She took a step back and looked up at the boy, his eyes glistening. Though he would never admit it, Charly bet he was scared too.

"That's just it. I need to know."

Minho nodded firmly before clapping his hands together, changing the atmosphere of the small room almost instantaneously.

"Okay. Good that. Now quit the crying, not gonna send you into the Maze blubbering like a shuck greenie fresh out of the box!"

Charly managed a chuckle through her tear-stained cheeks, which she wiped hastily with her sleeve. She hated that she cried in front of Alby and Minho, but they didn't seem to mind. Maybe that was what made them realize that this wasn't some stubborn act of defiance, that this really meant something to her.

"So are you going to show me the route or not?" she chimed, leaning up against the table and slamming a hand down on the Section 7 map.

* * *

><p>They spoke for a while about the logistics of the plan. Alby and Minho would argue back and forth over a certain step for minutes on end, before Charly stepped in, yelled at them both to compromise, and a decision was agreed upon. And so the process repeated itself until the three sat in there, weary eyed and yawning, but with a fully fleshed out plan.<p>

So when Charly burst out for the map room with a delighted satisfaction, she hardly expected a single pair of brown eyes would have the power to reduce what, minutes ago, seemed like a masterful strategy to a cunning, guilt-inducing plot. But they did.

Newt held Charly's gaze with a mixture of inquisitiveness and betrayal. He was leading a group of track-hoes slowly across the Glade as she, Alby and Minho descended from the map room. His mouth was agape, crooked, like he ached to yell out a million questions but couldn't find a single sentence to do so. But he walked on, eyes still fixed on the her.

Charly couldn't look at him anymore. She felt sick. Her stomach shriveled and twisted as the guilt grew inside her. She felt Minho place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly and pushing her onward, but it did nothing to lighten her mood. Instead, it felt like another addition to guilt that was already perched so precariously on her shoulders.

They headed back towards the Homestead. Charly scanned the Glade as the boys took to their normal jobs. It didn't seem right. After their conversation in the map room, after Newt had looked at her so scathingly, she for some reason felt that the secret plan she carried was scrawled across her forehead for all to see. But boys passed by them without a second glance, nodding a casual greeting or simply offering a small grin or joke. Nothing was out of the ordinary and Charly realized, now more than ever, that she was actually going to pull this off. It was going to work. So why did she feel so horrible for treating it with such confidentiality? She shook the thought quickly from her mind. No, she wasn't doing this for herself, she was doing it for them. Surely they would have to settle with that.

But she knew she was lying to herself the moment that Newt's gaze refused to clear from her memory, knew that the moment he had any inkling as to what she was about to do that he would do anything to stop her. How stupid he was, she thought, to believe that any feelings shared between them would stand robust to WICKED's actions. This story was never going to have a good ending. Tightening her fists, she clambered up the stairs into the Homestead.

"Woah there, greenie," Minho chuckled, eyeing her balled up fists. "Alright?"

Charly flushed, shaking out her hands before relaxing them by her side.

"What? Yeah! Fine." Even she went unconvinced by her words. Minho leaned in close, lowering his voice.

"Stop worrying so much. Stop worrying about _him_ so much."

"Hard to stop worrying when I'm not sure I'll ever speak to him again after this." Minho hung his head, shifting his weight back and forth uneasily.

"He's one of my best shucking friends here. It's hard for me too."

Charly looked up to see him staring at the ground, biting a lip in thought. She was fine with getting herself in a row with Newt - that she could deal with. But she felt even worse bringing Minho and Alby in on it too.

"Hey," she said softly, turning to peer into his wary eyes. "If this all works out like it's supposed to, we'll all have time to reconcile once we've made it out of the Maze."

The brightness returned to his face almost instantaneously. "Atta girl," he grinned, giving her a playful punch before heading off back into the Glade. Alby gave her a quick nod before following suite.

Before any more thoughts could run through her head, a voice from the stairwell drew her attention.

"Where have you been?" It was Clint, his black-haired head popping through the rafters. "We've got a slicer up here, gone and cut his shuck forearm open. Come on, up you get."

Sighing, Charly bounded up the stairs to the loft, but she was grateful for the distraction. If anything could push Newt briefly from her mind, it was the idea of stitching up mangled skin.

* * *

><p>"It's not too bad," Charly decided upon examining the boy's arm. He winced as she turned it back and forth. "I'll stitch it up though, just as a precaution. Won't take too long."<p>

"I'll leave you to it, then," Clint nodded as he disappeared through the door. Charly quickly wiped down the boy's wound before threading a needle. She only had time to make the first few initial stitches before there was a knock on the door.

"Kind of busy!" she called over her shoulder. She heard the door open anyway as a pair of clunky boots trod in. Her fingers froze for a moment before continuing on, not looking up.

"Board collided with my shoulder, I just need some cream disinfectant and I'll be on my way." Charly breathed a sigh of relief as Gally's voice echoed throughout the small room.

"Just in the drawers at the far end of the room." As Gally crossed the room, she could see an area of his shoulder almost rubbed raw, some thin lines of blood etched across the surface. Nimbly, she laced up the rest of the boy's gash.

"Only about eight stitches, nothing too horrible," she remarked as the boy clenched and unclenched his fist, examining his cut. With one more cleansing swipe, the boy slid off the table and back down to the Homestead, muttering a few words of gratitude. She peeled off her plastic gloves, tossing them in the trash along with excess gauze. As she ran her hands promptly under the faucet, she caught Gally's figure in the corner of her eye. He was holding the jar of cream disinfectant, turning it over and over in his hands with a glazed look in his eyes.

She dabbed her hands on a towel, eyes still on Gally, his back to her. It was like he was waiting for something. Charly rose her eyes skeptically before sitting on the medical table, pulling at her now tattered leggings.

"So what did you really want?"

Gally didn't turn around, though Charly saw his shoulders rise and fall as he sighed deeply. He placed the jar of disinfectant back in the drawer and slowly pushed it closed.

"What are you planning? With them?" He finally turned around, resting his hands against the counter, face perplexed. Charly's mouth parted and her face grew hot. He couldn't know. She kept her eyes fixed forward and slowed her breathing.

"I don't know what you're-"

"I know you're planning something, Charly. Newt does too." Charly looked from his face to her hands, which now fumbled at the hem of her shirt.

"Then you should know by now that, if I haven't already told you, then I'm not going to." She spoke firmly, in a desperate attempt to at least sound unbroken and unyielding even if she didn't feel the part. He didn't retort, at least, not yet. Gally walked over to her, leaning forward onto the table as he propped himself up on his forearms, clasping his hands together.

"Just….don't do anything too stupid. Please." Charly looked quizzically at him, but he averted his gaze, staring at his hands.

"You're not going to tell me off?"

"Because you'd listen, right?"

They both managed to crack a smile as Gally stretched back upright, walking slowly over to the door.

"You've got a lot of people here who care about you." His voice was like a warning.

"I'm just…just trying to do what's best for everyone, okay?" she replied, a bit defensively. "WICKED didn't exactly leave us a ton of options, here. We're choosing between horrible and slightly less horrible."

"I know," he said, stopping Charly before she had to delve any deeper into the churning pit that was her emotions. She offered him a small grin before he too disappeared through the doors and back down to the main floor of the Homestead, leaving her alone in the dimly lit hospital loft.

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><p>It was dinner time. She could smell the aroma of grilled chicken and, undoubtedly, some murky stew teeming with unidentifiable vegetables. At the moment, however, food was astoundingly unappealing. She slipped off the table and padded through the hallway, stopping feet from Newt's bedroom. She wrestled with the thought of confronting him right now, whether she should apologize or remain silent or protest or some odd combination of the three. But that didn't matter. Right now she had the strength to push open the door, and she had to do it before she talked herself out. Hesitantly, she raised a hand and pushed the paneled door back.<p>

Empty.

A mixture of relief and sadness filled her chest. But maybe it was better this way, maybe running off into the Maze tomorrow would be easier knowing that Newt was already half as infuriated as he would later be. But it was something about the pillows halfway out of their rumpled pillowcases, the unkempt bedspread that lay on the floor beside the bed frame that instilled a sinking and sudden loneliness in her heart.

She lingered over to the quilt, taking it's soft, familiar material between her fingers. An almost foreign happiness washed over her, like it was a feeling that she could no longer conjure up, in the form of the blanket and Newt's skin pressed warmly against her own. Charly's eyes closed as she sank down onto the bare mattress, clutching the fabric desperately between her hands as though it were an embodiment of the memory itself, that if she were to let go, it would vanish into darkness.

Unfalteringly, she pulled her knees up to her chest and fell back onto the dense mattress, folding herself into the blanket. Charly squeezed her eyes shut, fiercely willing the warmth that the blanket offered her to fill the void that Newt's stare had burned into her. And with that, driven by mental exhaustion, she drifted slowly to sleep.

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><p>There was a gentle creak as the left side of the mattress sank down, and Charly's eyes fluttered open. In the pitch black through straining eyes, she could see the outline of a figure sitting beside her. In her slumbering state she didn't think to bolt upwards, or to jolt away as the figure raised a hand slowly.<p>

A rough hand grazed her forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She knew those hands well. Newt's touch sent a shiver down her body as they gazed wordlessly at each other. Without any hesitation, he shuffled into bed beside her, pressing a silent, lingering kiss to her forehead. It was all the confirmation Charly needed before she turned on her side to face him, snaking her arms around his torso and tossing her legs over his, feeling a need to eliminate all the space in between them. As if on cue, Newt returned her tight embrace, his chin coming to rest atop the crown of her head.

They didn't have anything to say to each other. They didn't feel the need.

Yes. Running into the Maze resentful would have certainly been much easier .

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><p><strong>Next chapter is going to be a big, big chapter, and because I'm looking forward to writing it so much, hopefully that means I'll be able to get it to you faster than normal. It's so strange to have these ideas in my head for so long and finally be able to put them down on paper! This chapter was a bit of a filler, which I feel strange about putting out because this isn't like a normal book where you can just flip to the next page and not really mind it, but every week the release is built up to the point where sometimes I feel like something incredibly exciting has to happen every single week. However, that's just not the case sometimes, and I hope that it doesn't deject any of you from reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter.<strong>

**Speaking of hearing your thoughts, reviews have been coming in much slower recently, so I was just wondering if there was any reason for that! I'd hate for that to come off in any way annoyed, angry, or sad, because I'm not - just curious as to whether the dwindling reviews are in correlation to your enjoyment of the chapters, because I can see the views are remaining consistent. But that is such a small "issue", if you could even call it that, in the grand scheme of things, and I'm of course delighted to get the reviews and have the readers that I do :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**As always, love you all. Can't wait to update and hear from you all soon.**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Learning the Skills, The Hunger Games ( watch?v=ADYKE-CdDFU)**

**Breaker of The Chains, Game of Thrones Season 4 ( watch?v=hoPnrbKOEl8&index=3&list=PLo-lF9fUuCDSsJT4xt5jgSFNgLL0Dxvh7)**

**I'm Sorry For Today, Game of Thrones Season 4 ( watch?v=AcmzNb3C9VY&list=PLo-lF9fUuCDSsJT4xt5jgSFNgLL0Dxvh7&index=5)**

**Any Other Name, Thomas Newman ( watch?v=WIjWaulrLjs)**

**SIDE NOTE: I get a lot of questions about, generally, what I listen to when I write! Create a new Pandora station by entering in "Thomas Newman", and I don't think you'll regret it. He's a fabulous modern composer that has done a lot of movies I know and love, and Pandora will bring up a great mix of similar composers. **


	14. The Flight

_**Guess who has two thumbs and was able to overcome a horrible Halloween hangover and plow through a gruelingly long chapter? This girl. I've missed how quick my updates used to be, and to be honest, I'm incredibly excited to get these next few chapters out to you, so hopefully this won't be the last quick one - at least for a while. Thank you guys so, so much for all the incredible feedback I got on Chapter 13; ironically, it was the most reviews I've gotten for a single chapter upload while also being the chapter I was most hesitant to see your reaction to!**_

**Katniss; You are the sweetest thing! Thank you so much, I hope you continue to like the rest of the story just as much :)**

**Shnitzel; You know, oddly enough, I really don't like romantic relationships that progress at an unnatural speed too! But you're right, I think with the way the story flows, it only makes sense that they would feel the way they do about each other. I think the heightened vulnerability of the situation definitely plays into it. Kilig is such a beautiful term, thank you for introducing it to me - and no worries, you're not alone. My story stresses me out too. Thank you so much for the in depth commentary on my characters; I think, if anything, their believability is one of the things I always find myself insecure about. I despise when characters are overly stubborn just for the sake of being stubborn; Charly's stubbornness is driven from a place that you'll see later, and is absolutely meant to be a flaw, not some cute, lovable trait :) Again, thank you for your fantastic review, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

**Guest; Thank you, and no worries! The update is here! :)**

**Laurafxox; Ahh, this puts my heart at ease. I definitely put an emphasis on creating empathy for my characters for that very reason; if you don't care about the characters, the plot means much less in retrospect. I'm always so happy to read your reviews, only a crazy person would complain about reading a literal essay of compliments and feedback! So thank you again for reviewing, and I hope these next couple updates live up to your expectations! :)**

**amymairie626; You're a trooper for reading it all in one go, that's for sure! As WICKED are a bit angry with the gladers right now, I'm not sure they'd take any requests through the box hole, unfortunately. However, I certainly drew from the menstrual-related humor, which you'll see later this chapter :)**

**Alyssa; And I genuinely love responding to you guys! It's so amazing to get feedback during the writing process, you guys don't know how much it means! But to answer your second question, I'm not entirely sure how many chapters are left! Although the restof the story is planned out, it really depends on how events and dialogue flows, plus or minus any additions or bits that I decide to take out. Once I know of a number for sure, then I'll be sure to let you know :)**

**Sarah; Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the update! :)**

**yiannieee; First of all, THANK YOU FOR CATCHING THAT! Mistakes like those are maybe why I shouldn't do my editing at 1 AM :) Newt was definitely not supposed to be included, and I've gone and changed it now. But thank you so much for the lovely feedback, I'm so happy you're still reading! :)**

**IvyMoore; No more waiting, the plan will be executed in just a scroll of the mouse - seeing as it was over 4,000 words in and of itself, I decided it needed it's own chapter! Thank you for your Gally compliment, I'm not sure why, but I really found myself identifying with him as TOGT progresses. You've got good taste in composers! Hans Zimmer is fantastic. Although I could never pick my top five favorite soundtracks, some of the ones I've really been enjoying lately are The Hunger Games composed by James Newton Howard, Avatar composed by James Horner, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 composed by Alexandre Desplat, A Series of Unfortunate Events composed by Thomas Newman, and The Great Gatsby composed by Craig Armstrong.**

**FireAndAish; Glad to hear your exams went well! As for tips on writing, in general, realize that even as you progress through a story, you're going to grow as a writer. I sit here and think about how I would change some things in the first chapter, and that was only written a month ago! No one's first draft is ever perfect, so don't feel like you need to produce some huge masterpiece in order to start writing. Just go for it! Thanks for the review, and if you ever end up starting your own story, let me know :)**

**Haliston; I hope this chapter and the next live up to your expectations! Thanks for reading :)**

**The Ink Spiller; Lovely to see you back and hear from you again, as always! I'm so happy you're enjoying Minho in the way I wrote him! They're 100% meant to be friends, perhaps drawn by their mutual stubbornness and sass, so I'm glad you were drawn to see them that way. I'm also slightly pleased that the last scene made you, my most hardcore Chally shipper, squeal even for just a bit. That is my ultimate goal. All the squealing. I hope you enjoy this rather quick update :)**

**Miss Scarlet Darkness; You're probably equally if not more cool than this story. Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**

**Lara; Um, the next chapter is...now! I'm happy you're so anxious to read it, and I hope you enjoy it :)**

**ThomasSangsterisNewt; I'm just going to start out by saying that your reviews always put me in the best of moods. I can't even put into words how grateful I am that lovely people like yourself come across my story and feel so inclined to write such amazing, in depth feedback. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I do have plans to write a novel, actually, but unfortunately that comes along with waiting for a magnificent idea as well. I simply became really interested in the world of the Maze Runner and found the idea of writing a hypothetical prequel really intriguing. As a writer, I aim to write a little bit every day, and this is absolutely what I've been spending my time on lately. However, if I ever come up with a plot I truly get invested in enough to write a novel surrounding, you'll all be the first to know :) Again, I can't thank you enough for your reviews, and I can't wait to see how you like this chapter :)**

**Lottielue1; Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the new chapter :)**

_**After making you all wait for another update...let's watch the plan unfold.**_

* * *

><p>Charly lay on her side in the silence, her face nuzzled into the crook of Newt's neck while his arm was draped lazily over her waist. She shifted under the covers, rolling over as her eyes fell upon Newt's sleeping face. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him this relaxed, this content, like the world of the Glade and the Maze were far, far away, and that right now was some blissful, accidental lapse in reality where, for if only a few moments, Charly could pretend that things weren't nearly as complicated as they were.<p>

"Morning," she whispered with a sleepy smile, drowsiness weighing heavily on her voice. Newt's shoulders rolled back slowly, body tensing and embrace tightening. A smirk crept listlessly upon his thin lips.

"Morning," he replied groggily, eyes still refusing to open. She raised a hand to his face, running her thumb softly along his jawline. It was as if she did so to be sure that this was really happening and was not some nostalgic figment of her imagination. It seemed natural now, to question every happy moment. She couldn't help but do so. They came too sporadically.

"Why'd you come back?"

The words fell without thought from her lips, almost impulsively. Charly immediately regretted them. She didn't want to know, she didn't care why he was lying next to her right now, but was just happy to accept the fact that he was. Newt's eyes fluttered open but his grin did not fade. He scanned her anxiously anticipating expression with a quiet amusement.

"As hard as it is to be close to you, " he murmured, propping himself up on an elbow. "It's harder to be away."

Charly's eyes rolled to the ceiling, turning and flopping onto her back in exasperated relief. "I hate it when you say stuff like that," she scoffed jokingly, trying and failing to hide the smile that had spread once again across her face. "You make me…feel things. Damn you."

"Oh, sue me."

Charly swung her feet over the side of the bed, tightening the laces of the boots she had neglected to take off. It was just then that her fingers froze, her mind now fully awake.

She was running in the Maze today. She was going to get stung by a griever. She was going to remember.

Shakily, she resumed pulling at her laces. Her eyes looked at her boots without seeing them, as instead her mind began to fill with scenes of towering concrete, feet flying beneath her, gruesome, shapeless monsters…she shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. Charly cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. Newt stood there, his back to her as he shook out his white tunic. Protruding from under his shabby orange tank top were the three lengthy scars she had cleaned and bandaged on one of her first days in the Glade. Though they had healed over, they were stark against his pale skin. Charly grimaced, knowing she would come in contact with the monster that had given Newt those very scars in only a matter of hours.

"Err…Charly?"

Newt looked at her with one eyebrow raised, now facing her with one arm thrown through the sleeve of his tunic. Charly realized that she had been staring at him unblinkingly as visions of the Maze raced through her mind. She pushed the hair from her eyes and hastily stood up, Newt's face still contorted into an expression that was equal parts confused and concerned.

Her panic rendered her incoherent. As if commanded by some unspoken force, Charly walked straight over to Newt and threw her arms tightly around his torso. He didn't recoil, his half-clad body hugging her back tightly. Charly said nothing, simply lacing her fingers together and shutting her eyes. What if she ended up like Gally, cold and emotionless after seeing what life had really been prior to the Maze? What if something went wrong, what if she never made it out of the Maze at all? But she had to do it, she needed to keep them safe. She needed to keep him safe.

"Hey, are you okay?" Newt asked softly, his smile wavering against Charly's forehead. She nodded quickly, pulling herself together and forcing a smile to spread across her face as she looked up to him.

"I'm happy, that's all."

"Good that."

Newt gave a small chuckle, but it was immediately evident that his reaction was forced. There was something missing in it. But before he could question her any further, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before pulling him out of the room and down into the Homestead.

The smell of freshly scrambled eggs and sizzling bacon made Charly wrinkle her nose. She released Newt's hand, instead rubbing her stomach in distress. An uncomfortable lump had settled there, making the idea of ingesting anything absolutely revolting. To be honest, the idea of eating anything for the rest of her life sounded unappealing as well. Amidst sparse "good morning"'s and "shucking hell, it's too early"'s she managed to slip out of line just before grabbing plates and silverware.

"Not hungry," she mouthed to Newt through the jabbering voices of the other gladers, squeezing his arm before weaving through the crowd to the door. Her breathing quickened, face growing red and hands becoming clammy. Charly couldn't get outside quick enough.

Bursting through the doors, she took a deep, stammering breath of fresh air. The glaring rays of sun were like a slap to the face; unwarranted, but necessary. She laced her hands together at the nape of her neck, distancing herself from the Homestead as much as she could. Being with Newt, with the rest of the gladers and not being able to tell them what was going on, let alone confide in them with her fears, was too much. But there were others moving around out here too.

The runners had just emerged from the map room, shaking out their legs and getting in last minute stretches before the doors opened for the day. Minho's jet black hair was glossy in the sunlight, and as he surveyed the Glade he caught Charly's eye. She held his gaze in some sort of unspoken, mutual understanding for what could have easily been a few seconds or a few minutes, Charly didn't know. She felt the stable ground beneath her give way as the doors of the Maze began to drag open, the huge slabs of concrete scraping against each other in a high pitched whine.

Charly nodded to him, the most sound expression of affirmation she could convey. Minho gave her a small nod back before turning on his heel and sprinting into the Maze alongside the other runners. As they disappeared behind the walls, Charly expected her stomach to turn as she imagined herself doing the same, but it didn't. Her feelings of apprehension and dread had all but dissipated, leaving her instead with focus and determination.

Because, hell, she was in here for a reason. There was no way a rotating mass of concrete and man-made monsters was going to conquer her.

After deciding that she couldn't speed up the half hour of anticipation by muling about outside, she ambled back into the much quieter Homestead. Clint, Stephen, and Jeff sat at one of the tables; due to recent occurrences, it was decided upon that being inside was a much more reasonable place to spend their time awaiting a call. As slowly as time normally passed among card games and meaningless conversation, today's minutes seemed to drag on even more.

Charly sat with her head resting against the cool wood of the table, running the plan over and over in her mind until it was engrained in her memory, like a scorching, iron brand. The griever's stinger was long and sharp, and though apparently only one of its many appendages, was located blatantly on its chest. She needed to evade the griever until she was sure that she could reach its stinger; as to how that was going to happen, she had no idea. Did grievers tire from a chase? Did she have to injure it before she had any chance at getting away with a sting and only a sting?

How long had she been sitting here?

Jolting upwards, she craned her head towards the roughly hewn clock that hung on the opposite wall. 8:27. She had three minutes.

"I'll be back in a bit," she announced to the boys, who turned to her, perplexed.

"No you won't," Clint interjected. "You're on duty. Besides, the last time you wandered off, you nearly were killed in a shucking forrest fire. Not happening."

Two minutes. Charly didn't have any time for complications.

"If you must know, I'm having…womanly issues." Clint lowered his eyes as Jeff stifled a laugh.

"Surely nothing you can't deal with right here."

Well now he was just being absurd. Charly stuck an annoyed hand on her hip. One minute.

"And you won't mind me finding a way to accommodate my profusely bleeding genitals right here, right now? I mean, surely." He paused.

"Leave."

"Thank you."

Without a second glance back at Jeff and Stephen, who had burst out in laughter, she tore out of the Homestead and directly towards the Deadheads. It was her best shot at concealment. Skirting along the line of trees, she grew closer and closer to the wall, which seemed to increase in height with every step forward. Approaching the base of the wall, the boys' voices seemed to disappear completely.

It was like she was alone.

Before she realized it, Charly was close enough to touch the wall. Her whole body seemed to tremble as she took a deep breath. It was now or never.

Charly's feet flew beneath her at a speed that even surprised herself. Her steps dug into the ground as she rounded the corner, the thuds of boots against compressed dirt turning to crisp contact with concrete. She half expected Newt to come bounding in after her like before, but all was silent aside from her heaving breath, her pounding footsteps, and the soft crinkle of the note in Charly's pocket as her arms pumped back and forth.

Images of the maze maps formed in her head as she made a sharp right, a slight left, then another right again. The adrenaline that now flowed freely through every vessel in Charly's body kept her moving forward without an ounce of fear or hesitation, her mind blocking out every single sound; her footsteps were now muffled, the sound of her now labored breathing nonexistent. Left, left, right, left, right. Only a few more directions until she reached the cliff.

She only saw Minho a split second before the two of them collided in a mess of flailing limbs, muffled shrieks of surprise, and murmured groans of pain. Like the opening of a floodgate, Charly's senses all resumed full force, and she was dumped back into reality.

"Christ, Minho!" she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "My heart nearly stopped!"

"Yours and mine both, greenie," he grumbled, hunched over with his hands on either knee. "But you didn't get lost, good that. Thought I might have to do a little hide and seek."

"'Course I didn't get lost," she scoffed, but neither of them grinned at the remark. Charly was too busy gazing up at the walls, a mixture of horror and fascination washing over her. To be so close to the very edifices erected with the sole purpose of containing them, trapping them…now the feelings of sickness were starting to come back. But she had no time to feel sorry for herself or to reignite any fear, as Minho pulled her onward by the forearm.

"I passed a griever earlier," he said, starting up into a jog.

"Lovely. Was it by the cliff?"

"Nope. But that's exactly why it's important. Grievers don't usually stray too far from the cliff until nightfall. It's like even they know something weird's going on."

Cue sudden sickness again. If there was one thing Charly didn't need right now, it was WICKED manipulating her already risky plan of action. She needed to get it done, and she needed to get it done quickly.

Minho's pace began to slow as they approached the entrance to what seemed to be an unnaturally large corridor. They came to a stop a few feet before the entrance, Minho still holding on to Charly's forearm, holding her a few paces behind him. After peering around the corner, he turned to her and pressed his index finger to his lips. For the first time, his eyes were fearful.

"Is there one there?" Charly breathed, her voice barely a whisper. Minho shook his head.

"Don't doubt there won't be one here soon, though. Better to keep silent. Remember the plan?"

"Get stung, get to Alby, get out."

"Don't die," Minho added.

"Right, that too."

He gripped her shoulders with both hands for a few moments, and it suddenly hit Charly that this could very well be the last time she ever saw him. She clenched her fists.

"Okay," she whispered, and Minho released her. He gave her a quick pat and then bolted around the corner. It was suddenly very silent again. Heart pounding, she turned the corner.

She didn't know what she expected the cliff to look like, but it certainly wasn't this. She let her hand trail along the wall as she walked forward eyes following the jagged rock until the wall just…disappeared. The nothingness seemed to span for miles, all discernible details fading into the impossible distance. Approaching the edge, she peered over into an endless pit of darkness.

_We've had greenbeans run straight off before, never saw them again after that._

Minho's words echoed in her mind and she hastily backtracked a few steps, mentally adding 'don't fall off the cliff' to her list of instructions. But all she could do for now was wait.

It appeared that patience wasn't a value that WICKED seemed to have. Before the thought had even run through her mind, she heard it. The whirs, the clicks, the incessant clanking of metal reverberating from every wall, gradually filling up every crevice of every corridor until the sound seemingly poured from every single direction. All of the fibers of Charly's being told her feet to carry her away, but she planted them firmly on the ground. The clanking grew louder and louder.

Charly stared in horror at the griever as it finally entered the corridor. Its anatomy didn't make sense; bulbous, oozing, shapeless body paired with metal appendages, no apparent head or tail. It rolled forward in sudden spurts, whirring as it propelled itself along the ground. With every roll, silver spikes protruded from its moist skin and clicked along the pavement. She was so in awe, so horrifically fascinated that she forgot for a moment that she was in danger.

But that feeling faded fast. With a share intake of breath, Charly dove quickly to the side, the griever zooming past her in a blur of metal and slime. From the ground she could hear it's spikes digging into the floor as it screeched to a halt, readying itself for yet another lurching attack. She scrambled to her feet, bolting in no particular direction. She just needed to get far, far away. She needed to reassess.

The click of the griever's spikes upon the ground was all the motivation Charly needed as she sprinted across the corridor. She was faster than the griever, its roll stop, roll stop motion slowing any momentum. As she reached the end of the corridor, she turned to look at the griever, eyes scouring its pulsating body for its stinger. The griever rolled to a stop, and through the retracting spikes, she saw it. Longer and thinner than the rest of its spikes, it was positioned at what Charly assumed had to be the creature's chest. How she was going to get close enough to safely prick herself, she had no idea. But again, she was running out of thinking time. She needed to do something.

With another drive to the ground she evaded the second attack, her hands stinging as they braced her fall against the concrete. She winced, forcing herself to get up, run somewhere, anywhere. Charly took off back towards the cliff, the griever hot on her tail as she fled. It had reacted more rapidly this time, like it was learning. Cursing herself for not requesting to carry some sort of weapon, she took a sharp right turn, trying to dart back and forth evasively as she sprinted towards one of the side walls.

Jumping aside at the last minute with a scream, she sent the griever head first into the concrete wall. Its shapeless body collided with a surprisingly loud thud, the internal whine of machinery sputtering and catching.

"Ha!" Charly exclaimed triumphantly under her breath, but her silent celebration did not last long. The griever's bulbous body had bounced off the wall as though it were made of rubber, momentum sending it aggressively in her direction. Stumbling backwards, she started to run away from the cliff back into the Maze, but the groaning and clanging of the griever was louder than ever before, She could almost feel its oozing body begin to engulf her, limb by limb, slowly encompassing her in its undulating masses…

She threw her body to the ground, pressing herself flush against the concrete as the griever leaped through the air towards her, what looked like pincers outstretched in a sick, nauseating welcome. As if she was seeing in slow motion, the protruding stinger caught her eye, glistening in thick slime. Without hesitation, she threw her hand up in the air.

Instantaneous pain. She screamed, but could not hear herself. The noise of the griever landing, its spikes scraping and sparking across the cement, was gone too, replaced by an intense, disembodied ringing. Charly pressed her hands to her ears but immediately recoiled, clutching her left wrist in pain. She had been stung.

She needed to run. She knew that.. Everything within her was willing herself to get up, to get out, now, yet her body slowly rolled to the side. This was it, she thought as she saw the griever turn to her slowly, relishing her moment of defeat. This was how she died. How did she ever think she would be able to make it out of here alive?

But the griever did not attack. As she slowly raised her head, wrist throbbing and vision faltering, she saw that the griever was facing not her, but the entrance to the Maze.

"Yeah, you've seen me in here before, shuck face!"

Minho hopped back and forth at the end of the corridor, waving his arms in the air frantically. Charly began to inch slowly away from the griever, biting her lip so that she wouldn't cry out in pain. Hesitantly, she cast a quick glance down at her wrist. Spindles of what looked like deep black oil had spread across her entire forearm, spiraling from a black mass that clouded her pale skin just below her wrist. She winced once again squeezing her eyes shut, still moving relentlessly away from the griever, which had begun to whirr its machinery menacingly.

Without warning, Minho bolted off down the hall, and to Charly's delight the griever reared upwards before shooting itself down the corridor after him. The clanking finally faded.

Groaning, Charly pulled herself to her feet, using the wall as support. She ran forward, but with every pulsation of pain her knees buckled, threatening to send her back to the ground. Dizzying visions of the tall surrounding walls ran together in her mind, rendering her incompetent of walking straight. Instead, she stumbled through the sections of the Maze. was she going the right way? Everything began to look the same, blurring together in her mind as she struggled to recall the map to the forefront of her memory.

All she could see was the maps blowing across the Glade as violent winds ripped through the air, endless white corridors, an old man dressed in a white lab coat flanked by tens, no hundreds of men and women dressed in the same attire….

Charly cried out in pain as she slumped against a wall, bashing her head against the ivy-covered concrete. The dark spindles of opaque liquid had traveled further up her arm, winding around her elbow and moving rapidly up her bicep. She saw movement at the end of the corridor, striking a piercing, dagger-like fear into her heart. The griever had come back, surely, to finish what it had started. She lay motionless. It was no use, she couldn't move. She would sit here unafraid and look it in the eye. WICKED wouldn't get the satisfaction of her fear.

"Charly? Charly!"

It was a boy, sprinting towards her at an alarming speed. She tried to call back to him, to let him know that yes, she was here! But as her mouth opened, the only sound that she was able to form was a rattling gasp. She strained her eyes, trying to make out just who the figure was.

It was Alby. He slid down next to Charly, hoisting her up and throwing one of her limp arms around his shoulder.

"You're alright, you're alright," he repeated over and over, but the uncertainty laced within his tone told Charly that "alright" was more of a wish than a reality. She stumbled along beside him, her feet unable to carry her at Alby's pace. It was a few moments before she realized that she wasn't even running at all, that Alby had scooped her up in his arms and was running along a hallway, much wider and worn than ones that existed deep within the Maze. This one was familiar.

They were almost out.

She could hear voices now, quiet and nonchalant at first, and then like a chaotic symphony, all at once.

"What happened?!"

"Is that…a sting?"

"She was in the Maze? Why was she in the Maze?!"

"Med-jacks!"

"Charly…"

Her heart broke as she heard the last voice speak. She knew it was Newt, knew he was staring at her limp body in horror, his brown eyes wide open. He repeated her name over and over, each time louder than before. He was angry. Charly wanted nothing more than to turn to him, to look him in the eyes and tell him that she was fine and everything was okay, but she couldn't. Her muscles were no longer under her control, head lulling against Alby's arm as he carried her through the Homestead and up the stairs to the medical loft.

"Alby, let me see her…Alby! Bloody hell, what happened to her?! How did you find her?! I'm going to kill you if -"

She felt Alby stumble as he carried her slowly up the stairs, Newt's arm grabbing hold of him in an attempt to get an answer.

"She was shucking stung, alright? She needs the serum!"

Newt continued to yell questions at Alby, but another voice had joined the mix, trying to quiet him. Minho must have made it out of the Maze, for it was he that now held Newt back, allowing Alby to rush up the rest of the staircase. She could hear him yell after her, his pained voice tearing through the air.

Alby dropped Charly unceremoniously onto the medical table, but she felt nothing. Everything was numb, everything aside from the part of her that wanted to wrap Newt up in her arms and never let go. Clint and Jeff came into view, their eyes scanning her seemingly lifeless body frantically and lingering upon her wrist, which now felt like the size of a watermelon. She didn't dare direct her gaze towards it.

There was a loud crash as the door flew open, nearly unhinging as Newt burst into the room. Charly saw him run for her, only to come in contact with Alby's much more muscular body has he stood guard.

"Newt, she'll be perfectly fine! It was all planned, don't worry about -"

"This was planned?" He yelled incredulously. Newt had stopped pushing forward, but his jaw had clenched menacingly, chest heaving up and down. "You knew?!"

Alby didn't have any time to retaliate before Newt's fist flew forward, colliding with Alby's jaw.

Everyone was yelling now. She had lost count of how many people had followed them in the room, and they were now beginning to blur, swimming together in her eyes. Newt's face was bright red as he continued to shout in disjointed phrases while Minho stood cautiously in front of Alby, who now lay bleeding on the floor. And Gally, who held Newt back with brute force, but whose eyes lay on Charly's.

Clint lunged forward, stabbing the syringe into her arm. All was black.

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><p><em><strong>Phew. Genuinely felt a little exhausted after I finished that chapter. As always, let me know what you think in the reviews, as I've already started writing the next chapter - it'll be up shortly! How was everyone's Halloween?! Let me know what you dressed up as! I went as Tina Belcher from Bob's Burgers, and I was beyond happy with my costume. <strong>_

_**Love you all, talk to you soon. Next chapter should be a good one.**_

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**The Great and Terrible 10, The Fault In Our Stars ( watch?v=7G9W2j7WFh0)**

**The Maze Runner, The Maze Runner ( watch?v=qa9H5KsUq3M)**

**Into The Maze, The Maze Runner ( watch?v=h04vTKRhXKk)**

**Procession, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 ( watch?v=7zAVkk_Zc8c)**


	15. The Serum

_**I told you guys it'd be up quickly! This was so much fun for me to write. So. Much. Fun. It broke my heart, but at the same time I can't stop smiling because we finally get to know so much more about our beloved protagonist. I won't say much because I don't want to spoil anything, but hopefully you'll start to understand some of the motivation behind her previous and future actions. Make sure you listen to the soundtrack along with this chapter; it's one of my favorite and most fitting so far.**_

**Haliston; Thank you so much! Hope this is enough new information to make you forget about that cliffhanger :)**

**The Ink Spiller; As always, you are far too kind! I'm so happy that you loved the description of the griever. As you probably know, my stronger point is definitely my emotional appeal through writing, so writing the attack was a pretty sizable challenge. I was worried about lingering too long on some points, being too brief regarding others, essentially everything about that scene. I'm so happy people are reacting well! Charly is most definitely intended to be flawed, as keeping her "human" is my number one concern. The fact that she can still be seen as a well-rounded role model delights me. And a flapper girl! Adorable. I nearly went as Rosie the Riveter simply so I could pull out winged liner and a red lip. Hopefully you love the update, can't wait to hear your reaction! :)**

**Shnitzel; Basically my feelings towards life. Although I'm glad TOGT is making you feel things - whether they're good or bad, eliciting emotions has always been my goal :) Hope you enjoy the update!**

**ThomasSangsterisNewt; You kind, kind soul. Don't even thank me for replying to reviews, I couldn't imagine not doing so! I love interacting with you guys, its such a unique experience both as a writer and just as a person. I really, REALLY, appreciate your feedback on the griever attack, as it was something I found myself insecure about publishing. I never saw myself as a great writer of action scenes as I'm much better at staging them, so I'm very pleased that you found the structure to fit the moment well. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoy this update, and I can't wait to hear how you react :)**

**HayleyLorrainee; Ahh, well thank you! Here's the update, hope you enjoy :)**

**Katniss; Love what you did there. Bellatrix is a phenomenal costume choice! But oh goodness, the face paint horror...I can imagine! Thanks for the review, hope you like the new chapter :)**

**Lottielue1; Wow, thank you so much! I'm surprised at how many people are commenting on Gally, but I'm so glad people are appreciating his subtle actions. You are spot on in terms of what he's feeling. Hope you enjoy this update! :)**

**IvyMoore; Craig Armstrong is a fantastic composer, I'd recommend quite a lot by him. And absolutely not disappointing! It surprises me though, I was incredible unsure of how I felt personally about that part, but I'm so happy that you all seemed to enjoy it, even mentioning it as one of this chapter's strongest points. Enjoy the update, and thanks for your lovely words :)**

**Miss Scarlet Darkness; Hah. Wicked. I appreciate your review, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**Guest; I know, Newt's been through quite the wringer the past couple chapters, and this next one won't be an exception. Needless to say, I hope you enjoy :)**

**Sam0728; Here you go! Hope you enjoy :)**

**Pukka Meadows; Holy crap, good on you for doing it all in one go! Thank you for the constructive notes, I'll absolutely pay more mind to tha in the future. Glad I'm not the only fan of the GoT soundtrack! Thank you for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this update :)**

**_Damn, I love a good backstory..._**

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><p>A young, crimson-haired young girl walked down a decrepit street. There was an air that this used to be a much happier setting, where instead of peeling and shabby the picket fences were crisp and white and the grass appeared lush and green, not as dry and browning heaps. Her mary-janes were shiny and buckled, white frilled socks folded over just above her ankle and pale blue frock dancing around her knees.<p>

A pile of books were clutched tightly to her chest like they were her prized possessions; novels from Treasure Island to Huckleberry Finn, Hamlet to Mrs. Dalloway, her tiny fingers wrapped around the leather-bound spines. There was a smile on her face.

"There she is!"

The girl's head whipped left to see a group of boys. They must have been a few years older than her, though her gaze signaled that they were all too familiar. She walked forward, head down, pace quickening. But the boys changed their direction, now walking parallel to her on the opposite side of the street. She was sure they were smirking, but couldn't quite tell. They were all wearing surgical masks.

"What're you up to, munie? Just out for a walk?"

"Yeah, must be nice to walk around without being scared, huh munie?"

"We can change that, you know. We'll scare 'ya real good."

The girl broke into a run, tearing down the tattered and broken street, retreating from the voices that still called after her.

"Charly's a munie! Charly's a munie!"

Her tearstained cheeks flushed deeply, matching the color of her hair.

The image of the crying child as she bolted down the street dissolved into that of an airport terminal. It was the redheaded girl again, although unmistakably much older. Her white-knuckled fist was tightened around the handle of a suitcase, staring with her mouth agape at two figures who stood before her.

"I know Denver is far, my love," the woman cooed, her trembling hand reaching out to take her daughter's. "But it's the safest place for you to be right now."

"I don't care about my safety, I'm fine being around them! I just want to be with you, you have to come too." Although her voice uttered words that broke her mother and father's heart, they quivered with what was undoubtedly a deeply rooted anger. Anger at herself, anger at the world. None of this was fair. Why was she deserve to be okay, but the two people that had given her life were now destined to lose their own?

"Charly…you don't have a choice, I'm sorry," the man muttered. He could not look her in the eye, the many wrinkles on his face enhanced by his heart wrenching tone. "They'll kill you out here. In Denver, you're wanted. They'll take care of you."

"I don't need taking care of!" she yelled suddenly, causing passersby to stare. "You need the safety! I don't get it, I don't get it…"

Her voice trailed off as she sank into her father's arms. Her mother wept silently into her sleeve.

The airport started to swim, colors and lines melting together before forming skyscrapers lined top to bottom in flawless glass windows. The girl was seated at a small table, legs folded and chin propped up in her hand as she watched the world go by. There were babies being pushed about in strollers, couples striding down the road with hands clasped together, kids on their way home from school. But upon the smiling faces of every couple she saw her mother and father, faces gaunt, the furthest thing away from happy. She could not smile like the rest of Denver.

Her eyes flitted over to the bakery window, covered in fluttering sheets of paper. She furrowed her brows. These were new. She rose slowly from her chair, walking over to examine them more closely.

"FIND A CURE" each one of the posters claimed in all capital letters. The girl ripped a flyer from the door, gripping it so hard that the fragile sheet nearly tore. They were actually looking for a cure?

Mom. Dad.

"The World In Catastrophe Killzone Experiment Department seeks immune individuals to perform vital work in a series of experiments over the course of the next few years, the results of which will contribute to the discovery of a cure for the Flare," she whispered, the words from the flyer flying frantically from her lips. "Oh my god."

There was hope; a small, meager sliver of hope, but it existed. For the first time, she imagined her parents smiling, their faces flushed with color and skin smooth and glowing. They were all together, just holding each other, grips not frail for once as they stood and embraced each other tightly in the middle of a street lined with white picket fences.

The girl tore the contact information from the bottom of the flyer, letting the rest of the page drop and flutter across the street. Her thumb grazed across the acronym insignia printed at the end of the page.

WICKED.

The street vanished, a room rimmed with white walls and small screens materializing before her. She had seen this room before, stood in it even, Charly was sure of it. Her hands had grasped the metal tools that now sat sterilized, perched in boxes upon boxes around the crisp white shelving units. She had stared at those television screens for hours.

There were people in the room, the floor length white coats draped around their shoulders nearly making them unidentifiable from the uniformity that surrounded them. The girl from earlier was sitting in front of the wall of television screens, which all were focused on different aspects of an empty field. Long red tendrils of her hair had escaped from her messy ponytail and her face was eager, eyes wide in excitement. Gripped tightly in her hands was a pen and notebook, "WICKED Department of Neurology" printed neatly at the top of the page. About ten or so other individuals all stood sentient beside her, watching the screens in anxious silence. They were waiting.

On one screen, flashing red lights blinked on and off, on and off, repeatedly. There was a nervous shuffling of feet. Two enormous doors situated in the ground slid slowly open, revealing a boy who had to be only fifteen or sixteen. He climbed out of the metal box, mouth agape in horror as he turned to stare at his surroundings. As the doors slide shut and the blaring lights ceased he jumped, kneeling to the ground and beating at them with his fists. His mouth was open in a silent scream. The only noise that filled the room was the applause and shouts of celebration from the WICKED employees.

But the girl did not smile. She did not put her hands together in glee, did not, could not tear her eyes from the boy on the screen. He now was hysterical, the wrenching sobs making his chest convulse as he sat collapsed on the ground, holding his knees tightly to his chest. The girl's pen clattered against the pale linoleum floor.

The lab changed. There were more boys now, standing around the large concrete doors as several members of the group ran into the Maze.

Night fell. The group congregated again at the closed gates, awaiting those who would never return, taken by the Maze.

The girl could not look at the screen.

The scene changed again.

Every screen was focused on an even larger group of boys. They were throwing fists, kicking others to the ground as their own faces streamed with blood. Those who tried to pull them apart were struck down.

"Power hungry," muttered a voice from behind the girl, whose eyes were brimming with tears. She nodded, scribbling the two words shakily onto her blank clipboard. "Shame. He showed some promise."

As the girl looked back up to the screen, it was clear that the assailant had been pinned to the ground. She let out a small, shuddering breath. Things were finally in control. She neglected to see that, just a few screens over, a boy was trudging over to the group dragging a long, thick pole behind him. Attached to the end of that pole was a crude, leather circle.

The lab shifted.

A blonde boy clung to the winding vines that ran, intertwined, up the side of a concrete wall. He shook, violently, eyes squealed shut.

The girl stood with her nose but a few inches from the screen, tears streaming down her steely, cold features. She bit her lip, tasting blood but not caring. They had already lost so many to the depths of the Maze. This stupid Maze. They couldn't lose another one, not now.

She was not ready for the moment he let go, the way he propelled himself to the ground as if he couldn't bare his time spent alive so much that he implored that the seconds before his death were shortened as well. She was not ready for the crumpled form his body took upon impact.

She screamed, throwing her clipboard across the empty room. No one was hear to watch, to care that a boy had felt so deplorably miserable that the best way to seemingly cope with his life was to end it. The only reaction she was supposed to have was to reach for a stamp inscribed with the word "deceased" and slam it across his profile.

Her hands tugged at her hair as she paced back and forth across the room, sobs echoing throughout the vacant space. She wanted to break something, anything, the way that this experiment was breaking the boys inside the Maze. Her eyes rested on the bulletin board which hosted plethora of announcements, changes in scheduling, updated event itineraries; the largest was WICKED's own motto.

Typed in stark black lettering, it read simply, "WICKED is good."

The girl lunged for the board with a shriek, ripping the motto from the board and tearing it one time, two times, three times, as many as her fumbling hands could manage. In a heap of sobs, she collapsed to the floor. This was the farthest thing from good.

The image changed.

The white walls and lab coats were telling of their location once again, but she had not landed in the lab room lined with tiny television screens. This one was much smaller, and enclosed inside it was an even smaller room lined with glass paneling. Through the glass lay an enormous helmet-like machine, it's supporting arm protruding from the ceiling so that it was suspended menacingly above an empty metal table.

The red haired girl was there again, typing what seemed to be baseline information into a document. By her side stood a blonde woman, maybe in her twenties. Though her skin should have been youthful, her cheeks were colorless, skin gaunt and pulled tightly over her jutting cheekbones. Her lips were dry, cracked, and blonde hair lackluster.

"You think now that they've been in there for a year, they would have shown some sign of figuring out the Maze," she scoffed, picking at her fingernails distractedly. "We're about to send out thirteenth boy in with little progress. This is pathetic."

The young girl typed away, her face straining to remain emotionless at the blonde woman's words. "The longer they stay, the more information we'll get," she remarked simply, eliciting a sigh from the woman.

"Well, if we had it my way," she said, striding into an accompanying room. "They would just take the ones they thought were useful and then kill the rest. It's not like we have an infinite amount of time, here."

The girl closed her eyes, fingers freezing above the keys. At the creaking of spinning wheels she opened them, seeing the woman wheeling a sleeping boy in on a second metal table. His face was calm, serene. He couldn't have been younger than the girl herself. She stood up, taking the rolling table from the woman and swinging it around, pushing it into the glass-paned room.

"Right. See you when it's done," the woman noted without a glance towards the young girl, pushing open a heavy door and disappearing.

The girl began to push a sequence of buttons on the large machine; a sequence she knew well, having performed the Swipe numerous times. All she had to do was press "begin", and the boy's - she glanced at the label on his medical table, where the name Ben was adhered to the surface - memory would miraculously fade in one fell, calculated swoop.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the airtight door's seal. Closed.

"Not today, love," she whispered to the sleeping boy, pressing her lips gently to his forehead as she began to wheel him out of the doors, back to one of two adjoining rooms. She burst through the door, the sign labeled "Group A" swinging maddeningly back and forth from the force. The room was cold and dimly lit, lined with dozens of metal tables identical to the one she pushed. Like the silver table, they each had a boy sleeping on top of them, suspended in a form of medically induced limbo. She was beginning to stumble now as her body filled with panic, cursing herself as she failed twice to insert Ben's intravenous needle. With a final push, she found a vein and tore out of the room. It was fair to say that the panic had fully settled in.

She ran back into the glass paneled room, pulling drawer after drawer open until a certain bag caught her eye; a tartan rucksack with the words GROUP B scribbled across its front. Hastily she thrust her hand in the bag, pulling out a set of leggings, a top, and a pair of boots from beneath the bag. Throwing her white coat to the ground, she slipped into the new clothing.

As she tied up the last knot of her boot, her eyes began to scan the countertop. Pen, pen, she needed a pen. Any writing utensil, pencil, highlighter, something! With a final tug at her laces she leaped to her feet, ripping open a drawer and grabbing a pen and notepad from inside. She tore a piece of paper from inside the pad and pressed it against the countertop, putting pen to paper but suddenly forgetting every single word in the English dictionary. She didn't have much time.

C'mon, something instructive. Something helpful. Something vague enough that WICKED wouldn't have immediate reason to come after her, something that would give her time. Her trembling hands scribbled three sentences.

Get in the box. Get them out. Don't trust WICKED.

Folding the paper, she placed it carefully in the breast pocket of her shirt. With a deep breath, the girl hoisted herself onto the metal table. Memories of her parents began to flash in front of her eyes, like a reel of her life playing before she sentenced herself to death. Which, to be quite honest, she didn't rule out as a potential result of her actions. But she didn't care. Something needed to be done, and it was clear that no one else was going to try.

She pulled the machine down snuggly on her head, running her left hand up the rows of buttons, her fingers familiar with each and every one. She didn't want any more time to think, lest she back out. So she pressed "begin".

The machine tightened around her skull, immobilizing her of any movement. She could hear nothing, could only see the room bathed in blinking red light.

The girl closed her eyes.

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><p><strong>I don't think I've ever been so anxious for feedback in my life. After having this knowledge all throughout the previous fourteen chapters, I have this strange mix of fear and delight now releasing it to you all. Are you surprised? Pleased? Disappointed? I want to know.<strong>

**I love you all, and I'll see you soon with another update. It'll be the reaction we're all eagerly anticipating.**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Severus and Lily, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 ( watch?v=ZSnCRXz7NTM)**

**Dumbledore's Farewell, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince ( watch?v=AeVyvwThCd8)**

**Time, Inception ( watch?v=Z0kGAz6HYM8)**


	16. The Consequence

**_A big hello to all of my lovely, lovely readers. Don't fret, the new Chapter is here! Originally, I had planned on including a bit more, but in the end it would have been horrifically long and would have taken me another few days to finish, revise, and publish. However, this seemed like a natural place to end, and hopefully isn't too much of a cliff hanger. Thank you, thank you, thank you for continuing to stick with this story and to support me with your amazing words of support and feedback. I know this has been the longest wait yet for an update, but as I am a full time college student with a job, I hope you all understand! Please don't worry about whether or not I'll finish this story, as even if I have to take, for some reason, a month's hiatus, I'll always come back._**

**Guest: I always update as quickly as I'm able to!**

**Alyssa; Thank you so much! The assortment of memories was very important in my opinion, as I really wanted people to have a good idea of why she joined WICKED and know that she has carried this need to help people out from her parents to, now, the gladers. Hope you enjoy this update as well :)**

**Guest; I don't think I'd be the only one to say that your comment was a bit rude. Like I've said before, I update as soon as I possibly can!**

**The Ink Spiller; The same thing happened to me with one of your replies not too long ago! I know what you mean, it's the absolute worst. But as always, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this update :)**

**Guest; Yay! I love watching people make connections. Thank you for reading! :)**

**Guest; This really isn't the kindest of comments. I update as soon as I can, as always. I'm only a person, and writing approximately 60,000 words in under two months isn't exactly the easiest task.**

**ClaireReadsxxx; Thank you! Here's the update :)**

**Laurafxox; Thank you so much for the review! I'm sure Gally will stand up for her; even though he's a bit of a pushover when it comes to Charly, protective he certainly is. You'll see in due time! :)**

**Katniss; Thank you! She didn't necessarily sacrifice herself for Ben, he just happened to be the one boy that was being sent up the day Charly had planned to act upon her feelings. And did you just quOTE ONE OF THE CHAPTERS THAT MADE ME SO HAPPY! I hope you like this new update :)**

**Haliston; You should see my face when I get to reply to all of your reviews! Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**

**Guest; I actually haven't read nor seen Divergent, so unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to take on that prompt! I'm sure it'd be great though. Although this story will be quite long, it'll come to an end eventually, but I hope that it's an adequate end when it comes :) Thank you so much, though!**

**MagicalNinjaUnicorn; Thank you so much for both the compliments and the feedback! I really appreciate it. I do agree that the beginning of the story was a bit rushed, and I wish I could change that, but the events now are supposed to be a bit rushed. I guess the rushed beginning doesn't really allow readers to see the change in pace that happened in my head; however, I think a month in the Glade is far too much time, given the circumstances. With someone in the Glade who threatens to ruin their potentially life-saving experiment, would WICKED really let her run around for a prolonged amount of time? That was my frame of thought when planning out the storyline :) This isn't going to be a series as it's only going to remain a prequel - as I've stated a while ago, this is simply going to be a strict prequel in the way that when this book ends, The Maze Runner will begin. Thomas will still exist and The Maze Runner plot will remain unchanged! Thank you for the very thoughtful review, hope you enjoy this next chapter :)**

**Guest; Thank you! I of course won't leave this story, don't you worry! :)**

**broweiss27; Thank you! She doesn't meet newt until the first day in the Glade that took place in the first chapter - she didn't start out with being able to see all the gladers into the Maze, but as she continued to work with WICKED over the year she obtained more responsibilities, therefore was able to see some of the gladers into the Maze. Hope you enjoy this update :)**

**Pukka Meadows; Seeing as all sixteen chapters aside from one has taken place in the exact same location, I thought it would be a little bit overkill if I continued to add description of the setting. But I'll definitely take your advice when opening up each scene. Let me know how you feel about this chapter! The last chapter was supposed to be a bit vague and rushed as she was only getting flashes of memory, so maybe this one will be better in that respect. Thanks for the review, and hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**Charlotte; Thaaaaaanks! :)**

**Miss Scarlet Darkness; Ahhh, thank you so much! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**EnoraDixon; Thank you so much! Props to you for being able to read and understand this as well as you obviously can, I wish I were sufficiently bilingual! I'm glad you're loving it :)**

**Lottielue1; Thank you for the review! In my mind, naming the boy someone involved in the Maze seemed necessary, seeing as he would have had to be involved in the experiment from the beginning and would be going into the Maze at the next opportunity to do so. Does that make sense? The boy would be involved in the story regardless. I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)**

**ThomasSangsterisNewt; Hahaha I'm so happy that TOGT has been considered worthy enough to occupy your thoughts often enough to drift across your mind when reading another story! That's brilliant. And as lovely as your comments about my story are, I think the thing I loved most about this review was when you said that I made you want to write and write and write about your feelings, characters, and plots. That quite literally fills me with joy and, as a writer, is the best thing I could possible hope for. May you continue to do so, whether it be through these reviews or stories of your own :) And just going to add, Harry Potter is always a good decision. Hope you like this new chapter :)**

**DoveLuxe; Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad that you really were able to connect with the last chapter, hope you like this one as well :)**

**AshleeMyree; Thank you so much! :)**

**amymairie626; I think that the answer to your first question will be revealed more clearly later, although if you think more about some of her dreams, then maybe you'll think of a new theory. Good thought though! Menstrual humor is always a kicker. My Halloween night went quite well, thanks for asking! Although I got mistaken for "sexy schoolgirl" quite often, a few people recognized me and said I was their favorite costume, which was great! I listened to the song and it really was amazing! It's so cool to think that people are thinking of Newt and Charly when listening to certain songs, crazy. I'm so, so happy you're loving the story, and I hope you like this next chapter as well :)**

**IvyMoore; Glad you're enjoying both the Inception soundtrack and the backstory. Hope you enjoy this update as well, even if it wasn't nearly as quick! :)**

**Shnitzel; I loved your interpretation of Charly, really hit the nail on the head, there. Although I like to think that she was very close to all of the boys in a strange way, no specifically newt. I know there are some stories that pitch the idea of a WICKED worker falling in love with one of the boys while she's working, which wasn't the case here. She just saw something inherently wrong, and wanted to fix it because she cared. Not that you saw her that way - just a good opportunity for me to point that out to anyone who may be wondering! Thanks for reading, hope you like the next chapter :)**

**introversive; Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy :)**

**Guest; Thanks you, lovely! :)**

**Sam0728; Here it is!**

**_Right then, enough faffing about, let's carry on._**

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><p>Charly was cold. Very, very cold. Suspended in her subconscious, she felt herself frown. Death had already consumed her, she was sure of it. Her limbs and muscles felt outside her own spectrum of control, as if they moved on their own accord simply repeating instinctual actions. She couldn't make out whether she was lying down or standing up, and didn't dare open her eyes to find out. Charly was perfectly content with how things were right now; sleep was so very inviting, so very safe.<p>

But if the afterlife could afford to knock the temperature gauge up a few notches, she thought, that would be absolutely splendid.

No…no, she wasn't dead. She was definitely laying on something which meant she had to exist, as did the surface upon which she rested. One after another, her senses slowly came back to her. Charly's head was resting on a pillow, body sprawled out on a small mattress and covered in a worn blanket. Shivering, she pulled the blanket to her chin, but was surprised when the motion made her grimace in pain. She couldn't pinpoint where the sharp pain was coming from. Hell, Charly could hardly tell how many limbs she had a few seconds ago. But as her bandaged wrist grazed softly across her chin, memories accosted her mind like a violently rupturing dam.

She was alive. She had survived the Griever attack. She had remembered everything. And holy, ever-loving fuck, did her wrist hurt.

Her eyes shot open. It was Newt's room, she could tell almost immediately. The quilt wrapped around her, the horribly messy assortment of drawers…and Newt, slumped over in a wooden chair by the door. Eyes closed, his head nodded slowly back and forth with his breathing. His hands, which looked like they had once been clasped around either arm of the chair now law limp around each post. The blinding white light cast a harsh glare upon his pale face. His cheekbones, his jawline, each feature sunken and colorless. Charly wanted to feel happy as she laid her eyes upon him, wanted to run to him beaming as he wrapped her into his warm embrace, wanted to spatter his neck and forehead with soft kisses as "I love you"'s spilled interspersed from her lips. But any and all feelings were crushed by an immense, overbearing sense of guilt. Gingerly, she pushed herself up with her good arm, eyes fixated on the boy who remained still on the other side of the room.

"Newt." She tried to raise her voice, but all that came out was a small croak. How much time had passed since she was placed on this bedspread? Charly cleared her throat with a cough, to which Newt's body jolted. He grabbed the arms of the chairs, eyes glancing around the room quickly before they fell on Charly's upright body.

Mouth slightly agape, Newt slowly rose from his chair, as if he wasn't quite sure of what he was seeing - like with any sudden movement, Charly would be asleep again, her brief moment of consciousness just a figment of his imagination. She slid off the bed, feet making no sound as they hit the wood, every fiber of her being fixated on Newt's face, reading it. His large, brown eyes were filled with relief, but the lines etched into his furrowed brows gave an aura of incredulity. Though, whether the disbelief was directed at her sudden consciousness or previous actions, she could not be sure.

But Charly didn't care, because she was here, and so was he, and that was all she could think of ever wanting.

With three long strides, Newt closed the remaining gap between the two of them, scooping Charly up wordlessly into his arms. She clung to him with all the strength she could muster, chest heaving with staggered breaths, breathing him in. But something was wrong. She could feel it in the stiffness of his jaw that rested against her cheek, in the way that his grip faltered as time lingered on.

Newt's hands fell from Charly's waist. His eyes were bloodshot and strained like he hadn't slept in weeks, staring aimlessly to his right, refusing to meet Charly's gaze. His was lifeless.

"Was it really you who decided to go in there?" he asked quietly, voice low and hoarse. Charly squeezed her eyes shut, her eyes beginning to well up and sting. She never thought one simple nod could have the power to hurt someone so deeply, and as she shook her head once up and down Charly could almost feel Newt's heart empty its contents into the cold air.

She reached for his hand. He recoiled.

"Have Clint look at your arm again," he said, pursing his lips before turning his back on her and striding out the door. His voice was neither sad nor angry, but Charly found herself wishing that it had been. Anything, _anything _would have been infinitely better than the apathetic tone he had suddenly adopted, words devoid of all emotion. She wanted him to yell at her, scream at her, something! It was like he didn't care about whatever outcome was going to occur.

"No, just let me explain," she started desperately, but it was too late. The door had swung shut behind him, throwing Charly back into the silence that too often consumed her mind.

It didn't last long, however, as merely seconds after Newt had disappeared through the door, Gally came bursting through, followed closely by Minho and Alby. Charly looked past them as she continued towards the door.

"Thank god, you're awake. You're…." Gally's voice trailed off as Charly nearly strode right past him. He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. Charly hardly seemed to notice, instead pushing against his restraint, wanting…no, needing to make it through those doors and over to Newt. She needed to tell him everything. He had to understand then.

"Hey, hey," Gally soothed, eyebrows furrowing as he studied her face. Gently, he reached to her cheekbone, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. But Charly shook his hand away, trying to pry away from his grip.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell us what you know," Alby said firmly. Charly knew they had every right to demand this of her; it was protocol, after all. The only reason she went in there was to retrieve memories. Despite this, she fought against Gally's arms, now wrapped around her even more tightly than before. Minho looked on, face stuck between looks of relief, concern, and curiosity.

"You still don't get to tell me what to do," Charly growled, eyes still fixated on the small gap left by the open door.

"Charly, he'll come around, but you have to tell us what you know," Minho pleaded. He was concerned, she could tell, still commanding but empathetic. He had seen what happened the first time Newt had walked away from her, knew the trials and tribulations that would soon come in the aftermath.

"Don't forget why you went in there in the first place." It was Alby now, his deep voice low as he cast a furtive glance at the open door leading into the main level of the Homestead. "We agreed on that."

"I'll tell you everything, just let me see him, I need to…" Her voice faltered as she tried to free herself ceaselessly from Gally's arms, which were reluctantly still thrown around her. Minho's face softened. Charly finally turned to him as she thrashed against Gally's grip, but he looked on helplessly. Though she hoped that somehow he would find a part of his heart that would let her run after Newt, she knew deep down that he would never cross Alby's orders, especially when the topic of discussion was as vital as their own escape.

Just then, she felt Gally's grip relinquish. Charly's head whipped around, stopping for only a split second to stare into Gally's saddened, though understanding expression. He gave a small, reassuring nod before she bolted out of the room, past Minho and Alby who didn't know whether to chase after Charly or turn on Gally in anger. But Charly's speed gave them no choice, ripping through the door and down the cramped staircase.

The lower area of the Homestead was absolutely packed with gladers, every small inch of free space occupied. But why? It had to be the middle of the day judging by the amount of brilliantly white light pouring through the windows, they all should be hard at work. And Minho, who should have been running the Maze, had greeted her as she came to. As unsettling as this was, Charly had been rendered completely incapable any focus. She scanned the room desperately, hoping that Newt's mop of blonde hair would be bobbing up above the rest, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing, aside from the double doors leaving out of the Homestead, slightly ajar.

She was running again, pushing herself through the throngs of boys who had seemingly just noticed her presence.

"Calm down, will you? Wait…hey, you're awake!"

"Charly's alive!"

"You okay?"

Charly stopped for no one. Hands grabbed at her as she neared the doors, yelling disjointed warnings her way, yet she heard nothing. None of it mattered, nothing aside from her own hand that now pressed up against the heavy wooden door, pushing it open. She hardly made it a step out the door before coming to a complete stop.

The entire Glade was covered in a blinding blanket of brilliant, white snow. Flakes drifted lazily from the blue sky and had covered everything in sight, from capping the roofs of buildings to completely burying the crops and plants that had been carefully cultivated for months upon end. Only the stalks of corn had risen above the snowy bluffs, their peaks completely encased in ice. The deadheads, once only partially scorned by the fire, had now lost their greenery altogether. The only thing that adorned their bare branches were daggers of ice, hanging with an almost threatening delicacy. The ground had been completely unscathed, like the gladers hadn't stepped outside for days. Only a single trail of deep footprints disrupted the dazzling scenery.

Newt stood in the middle of the snow covered ground, the powder nearly rising to his knees. His back was turned, arms folded as he stared towards the open Maze doors. She could hear his voice in her head, his broken cry yelling her name, clear even in the chaotic screams of the other gladers. it had been the worst thing she had ever head, still, it repeated in her head over and over as she stared at the boy, broken by her own choices.

Charly trudged through the snow towards him, hesitant, through striding with purpose. It was only when he came within reach that her insides began to turn and twist, the force of her guilt knotting her stomach. Charly reached towards his shoulder, fingers trembling.

"It just has to be you all the time, doesn't it?"

Charly recoiled her hand as Newt snapped at her, still facing the other way. He must have heard her in the snow. A mix of frustration and sadness bubbled up inside of her. He still didn't get it, that all she was trying to do was save everyone, get everyone out of this hell they had been forced to call home. Of course it had to be her, she was meant to! She risked her own life to save them all by even stepping into the box, let alone into the Maze. She wanted him to be grateful. She wanted him to be proud of her. She wanted him to comfort her. She wanted him to love her. She saw the two of them at the floor of the slammer, separated by bars but joined by their intertwining hands, Newt speaking coldly about the night when he jumped, about what seeing Charly in the Maze would do to him…

"You can't do this right now," Charly pleaded. "I need you. Please."

Newt turned around, bloodshot eyes fixed into a glare.

"Did you? You seemed perfectly shucking fine, planning away with Minho and Alby for the past dew days. Or has it been weeks, Charly? How long exactly have you been planning on going behind my back? Please, go on. I'm intrigued." His voice was dripping with sarcasm, laced with resentment.

Charly immediately shook away the slander she was so tempted to retort with.

"It had only been a day or two, Newt. WICKED wasn't just going to sit pretty while we ate bonbons and sunbathed by the Bloodhouse. It was the only way we could get an edge on them, and now we-"

"What, are you going to tell me everything's alright? That you've befriended WICKED and the shanks are going to send a first-class helicopter to pick us up first thing in the morning?"

"Listen to yourself, you're being ridiculous."

"I don't bloody care!" He was yelling now. "I needed you too, you know. I was just fine before you came along, survived for a year in here without anyone driving me this insane. I didn't need anyone. And now you're here, and i can't go a moment without thinking about you, and I hate it. I hate that I can't go after you when you pull some brilliantly heroic and shucking stupid stunt, because no matter how much I want to, there's a whole family in here that someone needs to be responsible for. And if that's not anyone else, then it needs to be me."

"But that's exactly why I'm here in the first place. Please, please understand that." Charly could see his tightened forearms relax slightly. "I remembered everything, Newt. I came in here to save you all because I've seen the world, and it has nothing for me anymore. I don't care about WICKED, about what they'll do to me. I don't care about anything aside from…well, you. I need to get you out. Everyone out."

Newt stood in silence for a few moments, like he was wrestling with contradicting thoughts.

"We're all trying to get out of here," he began slowly. "I keep telling myself it doesn't have to be you, even when I know it does. Shuck if i knew why…thought it might make it easier, if I thought that for some reason I could stop you. Made it harder, really. I hate that it has to be you, almost as much as I hate that I'm in love with you."

"Don't say that," Charly muttered softly, shaking her head as she ran a hand over her mouth.

"I love you, Charly," he blurted out simply, expression softening. "I hate it, and I know that nothing good's gonna bloody come of it, but I do. I can't have you not know."

"Please, stop," Charly murmured sadly. "You can't say that, not when we can't go to sleep without the fear of dying the next day. Do you realize how hard you make it for me when you say things like that?"

"Yeah, maybe I do." He didn't say this as a shot back at Charly, not as an equalizer for their pain, but as a sad recognition of their shared misery. It was a shame, Charly thought, that too often the thing that brings you the most brilliant joy also brings the most severe pain.

"Just…please, do one thing for me," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

Charly needed little more convincing. She walked straight into Newt's arms, tangling her fingers in his shirt as he pressed his lips firmly to the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," Charly said into Newt's chest, her words muffled. She trembled now, only just feeling the frigidness of the knee-deep snow.

"Don't," he replied. "Just…the next time you decide to run off to your certain death for the sake of social justice and our escape, at least let me run behind you with a spear or something."

"Right." A smile crept onto her lips for what felt like the first time in ages. They stood there, swaying in their silent embrace, simply existing together; something that now could not be taken for granted.

"Newt." Charly's voice broke the silence, snowflakes beginning to collect on her eyelashes.

"Mhmm?"

"We need to get back inside. Alby and Minho aren't exactly pleased with me and, well…I have quite a bit to tell you."

Newt jumped backwards, like he had up until this moment forgotten the very goal of Charly's mission.

"What did you see?"

"Everything."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Sorry that it did take me longer to update this than normal! Now that the quarter is winding down uploads may be much more sporadic depending on my workload, but with holiday breaks coming up, I'll have some more time as well. I'm looking to have the story done tentatively by the end of the year, so I'll let you all know how that goes :) As always, I'm looking forward to hearing your responses in the reviews. Love you all, I'll speak to you soon.<em>**

**Chapter Soundtrack**

**Dream Violin, The Great Gatsby ( watch?v=eOwwLhMPRUE) *One of my favorite soundtracks of all time.**

**Solomon, 12 Years A Slace ( watch?v=rJ0FQovU0Ws)**

**Goodbye Brother, Game of Thrones Season 1 ( watch?v=8wUafUWy0oU) *Another bloody good track. Actually, all of these are brilliant. Please check them out.**


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